


I Can Be Your Man

by loonietuna



Series: Do You Want a Man? [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Drabble, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff, M/M, Model AU, Supermodel Steve Rogers, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-10
Updated: 2015-07-30
Packaged: 2018-03-22 03:51:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 23,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3713908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loonietuna/pseuds/loonietuna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve is a supermodel; Bucky is Steve's unsuspecting neighbor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a snippet from the story that won't actually let me write it. It was shamelessly inspired by [this](http://captainbeardburn.tumblr.com/post/115993325484/one-toomany-we-met-in-vegas-one-night-and-woke) amazing tumblr prompt (that I hope no one minds I used). I'd love to add more to this, and if I can get enough down to actually edit it chronologically into a fleshed out story maybe I will. Until then, I just enjoyed drabbling this short and sweet AU :)
> 
>  
> 
> The Scene: this takes place after a brief run in with Steve in the hallway outside of Bucky's apartment.
> 
> The Billboard is inspired from [this](http://lelima.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/09/Chris-Evans-Tony-Duran-Homotography-1.jpg) photo. I mean...let's be real, how many stories has this photoshoot inspired? I am no better.

“Jesus, James,” Natasha breathed, unlocking the door and finally letting Bucky into his apartment with a flabbergasted Clint in tow.

“What?”

“You could’ve warned us,” Clint added.

“What? What is it?” Bucky asked, looking from Natasha to Clint who both eyed him with an unspoken amusement and neither of them looking inclined to answer his question.  “Is this about Steve?”  Bucky asked, dropping his laptop bag and leaning onto the counter, brows raised.

“Is this about Steve? Really, Bucky?  _Really?_  Is this about Steve?!” Clint burst, a mixture of laughter and annoyance saturating his tone.

“Be nice Clint, remember - he’s been in Afghanistan the past two years…” Nat reminded him gently.

“Right. That has to be the  _only_  reason that he doesn’t realize he lives next door to Steve-fucking-Rogers.”

“Who?” Bucky asked.

“Steve Rogers? Captain America? Any of this ringing any sort of bell?” Clint asked with a mocking tone.  When Bucky responded with nothing but a blank stare and a shrugged shoulder Clint threw his hands in the air. “Unbelievable.”

“What?” Bucky asked again. Finally, Natasha took pity on him.

“James, your neighbor—the one you’ve been flirting with for the past month—is a Marvel Model,” Natasha answered with a shrug. Bucky could only stare at her.

“ _What?”_  

“A Marvel Model. You know, the equivalent to Victoria’s Secret Angels? The pinnacle specimens of hotness prancing around in barely-there underwear.” Natasha deadpanned. She popped her chewing gum for added dramatic effect.  _God she must be loving this_.   

“Woah, woah, wait, no—he’s not. He's just a regular guy. I mean, I mean he’s hot. He’s… _unbelievably_  hot, but there’s no way a fucking  _Marvel Model_  lives next door to me in this shitty shoebox building.” Bucky deflected, laughing it off as he rounded to the fridge.

“James, what was it that you told me that Steve did for a living?” Natasha asked knowingly with quirked a brow.

Bucky stopped midstride. “He um, he said he was in…advertising.” Bucky answered meekly, Clint gave a loud snort.

“Yeah. He flashes his booty for the camera, that’s top notch advertising.  I, myself, own nothing but Marvel Underwear,” Clint said, and Natasha nodded in agreement.

“I’m surprised you didn’t recognize him before, he’s only plastered on that giant billboard you stare at for forty hours a week,” Natasha added casually.

Bucky’s brain snapped in two because  _Oh my God._

Steve wasn’t—He couldn’t actually be…

Quickly Bucky ran for his laptop and pulled up Google, typing in Steve’s name.  He tapped on the first picture that showed up.  It was the billboard, _Bucky’s_  billboard, the one that stared him in the face Monday through Friday.  How could he  _not_  see it was Steve; blond hair bed-head tousled with his eyes lit up from a cheeky, boyish grin that hid behind the t-shirt that Steve held up to his mouth; abs on fucking display while his waist tapered off to a “Marvel” waistband that only accentuated a rather impressive bulge of red, white, and blue.  _God bless America._

Clint gave a low whistle. “I wonder if that’s photoshopped? I mean…come on.”

Bucky had wondered (and daydreamed) about that too, too often. _Jesus fucking Christ._

“I can see how you’d lose a few hours production having  _that_  outside your window every day.” Natasha mused. 

“I can’t believe I didn’t notice. Oh my God.” Bucky went red and swallowed his embarrassment, putting his head in his hands. “Steve Rogers is my fucking neighbor.”


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky does what anyone would do, he googles the SHIT out of his neighbor crush.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wowowowow!! I wasn't expecting so much love! This is amazing guys! I'm glad you liked it! Because of this, I've become super motivated and that's why you're getting two updates in one day. Woot woot!
> 
> I added a first part to this story (Bucky and Steve meeting) [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3716908). 
> 
> Thanks for reading! You really know how to motivate a girl :)
> 
> Come find me on [tumblr](http://captainbeardburn.tumblr.com/)!

Bucky wasn’t just embarrassed—He was absolutely fucking mortified. After the revelation at the amusement of his so-called ‘friends’, Bucky spent the rest of the evening holed up and effectively stalking Steve Rogers: Marvel Model extraordinaire.  While he started with the intention of finding some general information about Steve, he instead just found himself clicking through the endless pages and pages of photos and Steve’s shoots. Natasha wasn’t kidding; Marvel Models really were stacked, not just Steve Rogers but Sam Wilson, Pietro Maximoff, _Thor-fucking-Odinson_ , just to name an impressive few.  All with numerous multi- _million_  dollar lucrative contracts.  Steve himself was the designated face for not only Marvel, but also Gucci and Under Armour; he even had a contract with Harley Davidson.  Jesus H. Christ, Bucky could  _not_ let his imagination take off on that one. Bucky let himself scroll through endless pictures and editorials with a new found appreciation for menswear and an aching hard on in his pants.  Getting off on print? Jesus, Barnes, what is this the 80’s?

 

As Bucky delved deeper and deeper, he found confirmation that Steve wasn’t just a pretty face. A vocal advocate, Steve’s offered his endorsement to numerous humanitarian groups: he supports arts programs in schools, donated undisclosed lump sums of money to veterans and the VA, regularly visits numerous children’s hospitals all over the country, and is even an outspoken ally for LGBTQA+ rights and campaigns. Last year he apparently got into a rather public dispute with some ultra conservative senator about gay marriage and same-sex adoptions, ripping him an entirely new ass with his over two million twitter followers _. Ok, don’t let yourself read too far into that one,_  Bucky had to tell himself. But he had to admit, Bucky was in complete awe; Steve’s done so much for the community and he’s only a year younger than Bucky. No wonder they call him Captain America.

Just as Bucky was about to start reading through an interview Steve did in some magazine, he felt an overwhelming sense of shame - he’d hit a new low.  It was tempting, oh so tempting, to just read up on Steve and learn everything he can about him, but why do that when the guy literally lived next door? He could step outside his door and actually run into him this very minute.

“Come on, Barnes,” He muttered to himself in embarrassed disappointment. He stood up, rolling his shoulders with a long stretch.  Glancing at the time, it was a little after eleven, Bucky decided to take a step out onto the fire escape to grab a quick smoke, all those pictures got him pretty worked up.

Stepping out gingerly onto the fire escape, Bucky wasted no time lighting up and taking a long drag, leaning his head back against the brick, he closed his eyes and, against his better judgement, let his mind wander to Steve.  Figures, he’d finally met some guy he actually took a fucking interest in past just a casual fuck and the guy is probably beating them off with sticks.

 _Heh_ … _beating them off_ …Bucky actually chuckles to himself with that one.

“What’s so funny?”

Bucky jumped, eyes flying open and looking to his right to see Steve standing out on his own neighboring fire escape, brows furrowed in an amused confusion at Bucky’s surprise.  Jaw slack, Bucky’s cigarette falls out of his mouth and down the grids into the alleyway below. “Fuck…”

“Sorry,” Steve offered shyly, “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“Yeah, well you owe me a new smoke.” Bucky joked, shoving his hands in his pockets in a desperate attempt to keep his calm.  From this angle, the light from Steve’s apartment shines behind him, making his silhouette glow and accentuate his golden hair and soften his features. Bucky gulped. Should he act like he knows who Steve is? Or should he just play dumb? 

Steve tsked. “Those things’ll kill ya, ya know.”

“I may have heard that once or twice.” Bucky smirked, his voice holding no real annoyance at the lecture. Bucky looked up at Steve as a moment hung between them, feeling like his breath was caught in his lungs as Steve seemed to return a fond smile shyly. “Whatchu doin’ out here if not to smoke anyways?” Bucky asked, clearing his throat and wishful thinkings.

“Fresh air?”

“In Brooklyn?” Bucky asked incredulously.  Steve actually chuckles at that.

“I guess I don’t really know any better.” Steve smiled tightly, and when Steve’s eyes met Bucky’s own, he drops them immediately and Bucky couldn’t help but note the length of his lashes against his cheekbones.

“You grow up ‘round here?” Bucky asked.

“Born and raised. I travel here and there for uh…for work. But I couldn’t imagine myself calling anywhere else home.” Steve leaned against the railing of the fire escape on his forearms and stared ahead as if there was a sight to behold other than the fucking man himself. Bucky swallowed hard.  Here is where he could slip in a joke about beachside photo-ops, or how mountain climbing in the buff all seemed like good places for fresh air, but he bit his tongue.  If Steve really thinks Bucky doesn’t know, maybe he would prefer it that way. Maybe Bucky can be just that: another breath of fresh air, not another guy who has expectations of him.

“SAME.” Bucky practically shouted, and Steve turns his attention back to the brunet. “I mean…I wasn’t born here, I was born in Indiana, but I moved here a long time ago as a kid.  Never looked back.” Bucky finished with a little more finesse.  Steve gave a low laugh, and when those blue eyes rose to meet Bucky’s own, Buck could’ve sworn he could smell the electricity as it shot up his spine, holding one another’s gaze for a long moment.

“I uh…I better hit the sack…I uh-I gotta go to work in the mornin’.” Bucky cleared his throat, turning quickly towards his own window to escape. _God Dammit._

“Oh, ok.  Uh…have a good night, Buck.” Steve cleared his throat. When Bucky tosses a look back over his shoulder, he can see Steve staring down at his own feet, jaw setting in a look that on anyone else Bucky could only guess was disappointment.  Again, Bucky and his brain needed to have a long fucking discussion on what he thinks—hopes—he sees, and what he must actually be seeing.

“See ya ‘round,” Bucky answered with feigned brightness before slipping into his own apartment and sliding the window shut, leaning against it with a sigh that couldn’t be described as relief. Bucky needed to get himself in check.  There was no way he was going to allow himself to fall for a fucking supermodel who definitely only saw him as a  _neighbor_. 

Don’t be a fucking  _amateur_ , Bucky thinks to himself. He really ought to know better than that.


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha and Clint try to and convince Bucky to go for it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got a couple asks about whether or not we'll see more of Steve and Bucky together. Wellllll, my plan is that Bucky is going to confess pretty soon about knowing what Steve does (I mean, it's only a matter of time, even this Bucky isn't that oblivious), and once that happens there will be fluff and celebrity parties and galas and fun stuff and some NSFW stuff (if my muse'll cooperate. She feeds off kudos and comments).
> 
> Again, I'm dusting off my writing since hitting a bad case of writer's block (hence sloppy, un-beta'd writing. No concrit just yet please, my feels are too delicate). I can't promise consistent updates, but I am having fun with this universe. I have even gotten an in-universe headcanon or two, so feel free to talk about yours :) I love hearing ideas or what you'd like to see. Keeps things fresh :)

“Google is pretty fuzzy about his dating history.” Natasha said, starting the conversation as the group sat at their usual corner table in the cafeteria. Lunchtime was the one time in the day that the three could get together at work, and as of late, the topic has been exclusively about Bucky and Captain America. 

“You’re  _googling_  him?”  Bucky asked incredulously, practically dropping his tray in shock. Clint leaned over Natasha’s shoulder and scrolled through some article they were referencing.

“What? It’s an invaluable resource.  Why not use it to your advantage?” Natasha asked flatly, completely comfortable in invading Steve’s privacy apparently.  As if reading his mind, Natasha cocked one perfectly sculpted brow dubiously and asked with playful amusement, “James, are you telling me  _you_  haven’t googled Steve since you found out?” 

She knew Bucky better than that.

He lied anyway.

“No! Of course not! The guy is my neighbor…that just seems…weird,” Bucky scoffed, trying to save a little face and a lot of pride.

“And rude,” Clint added, shoveling another piece of pizza into his mouth.

“Really fucking rude,” Bucky nodded, jabbing his fork in Natasha’s direction.

Natasha shrugged, unperturbed. “I just figured I could save you a little time.”  She stabbed at her salad a little too aggressively for Bucky’s taste at that.

“Any more coffee run-ins?” Clint teased, and Bucky rolled his eyes widely.

“No.  I ran into him yesterday before work but he was flying out for a "work thing,"" Bucky mimed with air quotes, "to Maui, I think,” he finished casually.

“Does he still think you don’t know?” Natasha asked, a bit of surprise in her voice.  Bucky cringed. 

“I don’t know, we just talked for like, a minute before he was out the door.” Bucky tried to play nonchalance but even he could pick up the pathetic disappointment in his voice. He’d only just met the guy a few weeks ago and he’s already mentally attached to the man. 

“We-he-hell, let’s see what he’s up to?” Clint sang, pulling his phone out. Immediately Natasha and Clint were hunched over the small screen while Bucky tried to take a stand and feign disinterest.

“ _No googling._  Come on guys, where’s your self-respect?” Bucky dared.

Natasha and Clint both levelled him with a shared amused look and a snort. “You and your self-respect can stay on that side of the table, while we over here on the fun-side check Steve Rogers’ official twitter. That’s what it’s there for right, to be seen?” Natasha smirked.

“Damn, he hasn’t updated in over a week,” Clint sighed.  Bucky knew that already of course (he  _may_  have already peeked at it this morning). Steve’s twitter was pretty inconsistent, mainly just random updates of things he found amusing or insightful, occasionally promoting some charity project he was involved in.  Hardly ever work related, or, even less frequently, personal. 

“Let’s check his tagged tweets,” Natasha suggested, earning a sound of approval from Clint and an irritated scowl from Bucky—okay,  _he_  hadn’t thought of that.  “Ah, look. Trust Sam Wilson to update with a rather impressive picture.”

Natasha turned the phone so Bucky could see, and he tried not to lunge for it.  It was an Instagram shot of some wide open French double doors out to a balcony, a breathtaking sunset over the ocean that painted the water in hues of pink, orange, and gold, but that’s not where Bucky’s eyes were.  Standing just left of center—no shirt, just trunks—was Steve leaning against the railing of the balcony and glancing back over his shoulder at the camera, big dopey grin playing across his face. 

> @WilsonMarvel   
>  “@SteveRogers: Alohaaa Hawaii! Thanks Marvel for another amazing photoshoot locale! Keep an eye out for the MM swimsuit special ;) #whataview”

Bucky grimaced, and gave the phone back to Natasha, his insecurity coming out front and center and practically shouting what Bucky was trying to ignore: ‘How could a guy like that would be interested in  _me_?’ Bucky dropped his eyes down to his food, caught up in that vicious cycle of hopeful and hopeless.

“Stop it, James,” Natasha scolded. “Whatever you’re thinking, stop.”

“He’s not actually  _with_  Wilson is he?” Clint asked aloud, “They would have some beautiful babies…I mean, aside from the whole ‘both being men’ thing--” He didn’t get the answer he was looking for when Natasha knuckled him hard in the shoulder.

“What’s it matter? Even if he isn’t—look, let’s say I’m a six-“

“Dude, I’m secure enough in my sexuality to admit that you’re at least an eight.” 

“I was thinking eight-and-a-half.” Natasha added, pursing her lips.  “Maybe even a nine if you’d get that fucking haircut.”

Bucky didn’t justify that last jab with a response, “Ok, so say I’m an eight.  Steve’s gotta be at least a…a twelve. Not only that, he is surrounded by guys who were just as beautiful  _all the time_. And not just men – women, too. Gorgeous women.” Bucky sighed heavily.  He didn’t like saying these things aloud.

“Twelve?!” Clint practically squawked in disbelief.  Bucky waved him off.

“The point is Steve is getting paid because he is just that: really hot. What’s a Marvel Model doing living in my shithole shoebox?” Bucky asked, furrowing his brows.  “Seriously, it doesn’t make sense. With his Gucci contract alone has got to get him set up in a pretty high rise in Manhattan.”  

Natasha blinked at him. 

“Er…Alleged…contract…I overheard once…I saw…” Bucky scrambled, backtracking.

“YOU DID GOOGLE HIM!” Natasha squealed, temporarily losing her cool composure to revel in her glory of once again being right.

“Shuddup, Nat,” Bucky groaned. 

“Ok, ok. So what, the dude is hot. But…from what you’ve said, it doesn’t sound like he’s not  _not_  interested at least.” Clint offered.  Bucky mulled that over; it was true, if it were anyone else, Bucky would admit there was some serious chemistry and eye-fucking involved here, but it isn’t just some average Joe on the street, Steve was a fucking  _Marvel Model._  Guy probably had people lined down the street for him.  Bucky sighed to himself in disappointment.

“Forget about what he does, James. The guy you met in the hall, do you like him?” Natasha asked earnestly.  Bucky nodded. “And you’ve talked to him a few times, does he act like maybe that feeling is mutual?”

Bucky’s face twisted, hope cautiously rising in his chest. “ _Maybe_ …but-”

“No buts. Nat’s right, you don’t give yourself enough credit, man. From what you’ve told us, the guy seems charmed off his pretty little feet.” Clint added with dramatic cheek. 

“If this were me, you’d tell me I was crazy that I had even the smallest bit of doubt,” Natasha added, sincerity in her voice. “So stop it.”

They were right.  Bucky ran a hand through his hair in frustration.  Any other guy and Bucky could turn on the charm and confidence, but ever since he ran into Steve with that coffee, it feels like Bucky’s been dancing on hot coals around him and he really doesn’t want to get burned.

“So…you guys are honestly telling me to go for it? Go after Captain-fucking-America?” Bucky asked warily, he wasn’t sure why he was so desperate for their support, but he needed it.

“No.” Natasha answered sharply, and Bucky’s stomach dropped.  “Your nice neighbor in that shithole shoebox in Brooklyn,  _that’s_  who we’re telling you to go for.” She smiled. 

“ _Nice._ ” Clint added appreciatively.

“Thanks.” Natasha beamed proudly, before taking one of Bucky’s hands in her own and giving it a reassuring squeeze. Bucky dropped his eyes, suddenly overwhelmed by his best friends’ support and the prospect of actually putting himself out there with Steve.

Bucky could feel Clint eyeing him, clearly bothered by something he wasn’t sure he should say aloud.  Finally after feeling him watching him for a good solid minute Bucky finally cracked.

“What is it, Clint?”  Clint leaned forward, elbows on the table, and eyeing Bucky warily.

“You _really_  think he’s only a twelve?” Clint asked hesitantly, sounding genuinely confused. “They guy has to be at  _least_  a twenty. He’s even got  _me_ questioning what I should do with my dick.” Clint finished with a lusty sigh.

“Me too.” Natasha hummed dreamily.  Clint guffawed, and even Bucky managed to laugh a little at that one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just because we can--Here's Chris on the beach  
>   
> I suggest we contact Chris' publicist, agent, whoever and tell them we need more of these photoshoots...ya know...for research purposes.
> 
> Oh and remember when Bucky thought of him mountain climbing in the buff?? Totally from his Details photoshoot:  
> 
> 
> Feel free to come wave your arms on [tumblr](http://captainbeardburn.tumblr.com) with me about stuff! I love talking to people and getting ideas for the story :)


	4. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dr. Bruce Banner reveals he's a bro and Bucky almost wastes Natasha's pep-talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Science Brotp is alive and well folks! Mad props to Mark Ruffalo, who I pictured being an exasperated snark due to his wonderful "Creating a Murderbot" performance in AOU.
> 
> Sorry for the long wait! I've just moved halfway across the country (again), toss in a little writer's block and crippling anxiety and what we have is a mixed bag of Shit Writing. Anyways, I got a little confidence, dusted this bad boy off, and hoped to try and get back on track. Sorry if it's not up to snuff, I did my best.
> 
> Please be kind: still trying to get over this block and out of my head, so no concrit just yet please! All the support and enthusiasm has been incredible and I'm tickled pink.

A pep talk is only so good as long as one is able to act on it and,  _once again_ , Lady Luck was not on Bucky Barnes’ side.  

For the fifth straight night Bucky was staying late at work. Last minute modifications and pushed-up deadlines meant that Bucky couldn’t just run home and conveniently run into Steve the minute he was back from Maui (even if his Twitter may have already given him a message that @SteveRogers was already back, greeting him with an artful selfie on Instagram of Steve stretched out on his couch; “Travelling’s fun, but I’m with Dorothy on this one.”  _Oh Steve, you’re so clever_ ). 

Bucky dropped his head on his desk with a thud. The blueprints for his tech just aren’t cooperating; connections that should be easy to assemble aren’t “practical” and the plating isn’t “functional.”  If he could just take what was in his brain, and put it on this paper he’d be a millionaire sailing the Bahamas with a hot model boyf— _wait_ …

Bucky shot up straight, his eyes immediately focused on the billboard outside (conveniently lit up even in the evening hours, how  _thoughtful_ Marvel).  Bucky squinted at Captain America with his playful smile, his washboard abs.  Something in Bucky’s brain had snapped—probably hours ago at this point—he wasn’t in the mood, he was desperate, he couldn’t afford this distraction right now and he was going to tell him so.

“You…” Bucky said aloud, pointing a finger at his scapegoat outside, the sign twinkling in cheeky defiance. “ _You_  are throwing me off. I can’t concentrate with you here. I can’t concentrate at home because you’re  _right next door._  I’ve got deadlines to meet.  See this arm?” Bucky held up the print to the window, “This has to have a theoretically functional print ready by Monday. I’m to present it to Tony- _Fucking-_ Stark, who…if I show him _this_ …well…he’ll tear it apart in seconds oh—shit.  _Shit, shit._ I’m fucked, I’m literally—take this metal arm and shove it up my-"

“Everything alright, Barnes?” Dr. Banner’s voice cut in, causing Bucky to immediately jump back into a professional position, sitting at his desk now, hands clasped.

 _Because that’s how professionals_ sit _, right? Goddammit, Barnes, out of your head._   “Yeah, yeah, Bruce. Just…uh…”

“Arguing with Cap?” Bruce smiled mournfully.  Bucky wished this was the first time Bruce had walked in on this situation.

“Not my proudest moment.” Bucky admits, leaning on his forearms on the desk.

“It’s late, you should be at home getting rest, protecting your sanity.” Bruce chided knowingly.

“I…I can’t.” Bucky sighed.  “This isn’t…this isn’t right yet and I have to present to Stark on Monday-”

“Pfft.” Bucky stopped short, and Bruce actually laughed a belly laugh. “Stark assigned a presentation--for himself--on a  _Monday?_  Listen kid, take it from a credible source who has been through this many times: Go home. You won’t have  _shit_  to do on Monday.  Stark is in Italy and chances are he’ll either still be there or too ‘jetlagged’ to bother come in.”

Bucky narrowed his eyes. “You don’t know—“

“Oh, I know.”

“Ok...I mean, I know you know, but you don’t actually  _know.”_

 _“_ I know and I  _know._  And if I’m wrong, which I’m not, I’ll tell Stark the truth myself. He’ll laugh, I promise. But trust me, I know, I  _know_ , and I’m telling you to go  _home,_ ” Bruce assured. Bucky watched him a minute, gauging him, but at this point, with Cap’s eyes on his back, he knew he wasn’t going to get much done in the office anyways. 

"Ok,” He gave in.

“Good!” Bruce said, seemingly genuinely elated. “Go home, have a beer, and I’ll see you Monday.”

“See you Monday,” Bucky clipped, smiling back tightly as he gathered his things for the slow journey home. One beer, then bed, then back to work.

 

* * *

 

To really prove that Lady Luck was so far off of Bucky’s side she was practically out to get him,  _Steve_  was in the lobby of his building, checking his mail, when Bucky got in.  Bucky saw him first, casual in a blue jacket and jeans, blond hair wind-blown.  Steve turned and noticed him, giving him a perfectly straight, pearly toothed goofy grin.  Bucky doesn’t know how, but he forgets just how good looking Steve in person is, even if he knows the guy is paid out the ass  _for that reason._

“I was hoping I’d get to run into you,” Steve greeted with a smile. 

“You’re back! How was Maui?” Bucky asked, returning the smile sincerely, trying to mask his exhaustion.

“It was good. Sunny—too sunny for my fair Irish skin.” Bucky snickered, following Steve up the steps.  He was so tired, down to his bones, and he didn’t even really feel it until he’d finally gotten on the subway.  “You ok?” Steve asked, concern in his voice.

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine. Just work, deadlines, presentations…you know,” Bucky said, waving it off.  Steve nodded with a frown.

“Well, as your concerned neighbor, T-G-I- _F_ because you look like shit,” Steve said bluntly.

“Thanks  _neighbor_ , but not all of us get to jet away to fucking paradise for business,” Bucky teased.

“Hey now, if it’s any consolation, I spent most of it trying not to burn. Really takes away from the glamor of it all, those perfect sunny days and pristine beaches are hardly any fun at all,” Steve shot back and Bucky actually moaned aloud at the thought of stretching out on the beach.

“Fuck you, pal,” Bucky groaned at his door.  Bucky couldn’t see, but he could feel Steve hesitate at his own door, and Bucky glanced over to see Steve fumbling with his keys, his brows furrowed and his bottom lip between his teeth.  “Everything all right?”

Steve’s eyes shot up to meet his own, and just like that, the playful confidence was back, conviction. “Come over, have a beer. Unwind.”

Bucky stopped short, dumbfounded at Steve’s directness. “Now?”

“Yeah, why not? No offense,  _pal,_  but you look like you could really use one.  I just got some amazing craft beer during my last trip, it’s been chilling all afternoon.”  Bucky hesitated.  The offer was tempting, fuck it was exactly what he needed, and the thought of drinking with Steve? But then that little voice nagged to the front again.  Putting himself in that situation: alcohol, exhaustion,  _hormones—_ was that all really the best way to introduce himself to Steve?  That’s asking for Bucky to just fuck it up and say something stupid.  After a beat, Steve murmurs “never mind…forget it, you’re tired, it was just…it was just an idea-”

“Gimme five.” Bucky interrupted, deciding to carpe-fucking-diem and seize this opportunity that is presenting itself. Steve’s head flies up with wide eyes and a cautious smile.

“Yeah?”  Steve asked, small and hopeful, and Bucky swallowed with the realization that he was finding it harder and harder  _not_  to read into it.

 

* * *

 

"Did you paint this?" Bucky asks.  He was in complete awe of the painting in front of him. The colors were dark, not bright and vibrant like Steve himself, almost dingy, dirty, but the woman in the painting, her eyes bright and gaze fierce, she captivated Bucky the minute she laid eyes on him as he walked into Steve’s apartment for the first time. 

"Yeah...Work in progress..." Steve answered meekly, coming up to Bucky's side with two cold beers from the fridge, offering one to him. 

"She's beautiful." Bucky breathed, adoration obvious in his voice. "Is she real? I mean...is she like..."

"Yeah, she's real." Steve laughed a little tightly. Bucky turned his eyes to him, and Steve was staring at his work with a critical eye, so different from his own. The look of the crafter, the artist, not the audience. " _Peggy_.  It's nothing, just for fun."

"This is for fun?" Bucky asked, pointing at  _Peggy_. "This is...this is amazing. I really, I have no other words. I..." Bucky opened then closed his mouth, before opening it again with great exaggeration, and this seemed to pull a genuine laugh from Steve.

"It's a work in progress, extra emphasis on the progress." Steve laughed, nodding for Bucky to follow him to the couch, which Bucky did so hesitantly, his eyes still fixated on Peggy.

When Bucky sat on the couch, it was old and well worn, giving way and conforming to his body as he sank in. It was the couch from Steve's picture on Instagram and the thought struck him as odd.  Thousands of other people had liked that picture, and here he is, in Steve's apartment, on that couch...He decided not to think about it as he traced his hand on the yellow fabric, some fraying at the corners of the cushions.  Steve  _lived_  here, Bucky thought to himself.  Bucky raised his eyes, finally taking in the rest of Steve's apartment and what he saw...it saddened him.

For an artist, Steve's apartment was surprisingly bare. No art or posters on the walls, no pictures of loved ones or leisurely books on the shelves, not even a fucking throw pillow.  Aside from the easel and all the canvases leaning against that corner, there was hardly any color in the apartment at all.  Frames lined the floorboards along the walls, backs out, the actual picture hidden from view. Bucky frowned.

"Mind me asking how long you've lived here?" Bucky asked, knowing he couldn't hide the real unspoken question in his voice. Steve raised his brows and looked around the room, shrugging and putting his hands on his hips with a heavy sigh.

"A year?" He guessed. Bucky nodded, feeling a little embarrassed by how nosy he must seem. Steve sat on the other end of the couch, playing with the frayed cloth at the corner of the cushion by Bucky's right shoulder, just within reach. "The whole place is a work in progress I guess." Steve said quietly then, eyes focused on that one spot of frayed cloth, smile sad and tight and everything Bucky didn't want to see.

"Work keep you busy?" Bucky asked, and Steve sucked on his teeth with a sharp inhale. 

"Yeah actually. I travel a lot. Jumping from hotel to hotel, you kinda get used to bare bone living. I hardly even unpack my suitcase anymore." 

Bucky frowned again, eyes on Steve's hand, watching him twirl and play with the loose threads, the exposed cushioning.  

"You make it sound a little depressing. That big haul you brought in must be nice though?" Bucky offered, nodding at what was clearly still Steve's luggage stacked by the door, suit bags marked with fancy label names Bucky couldn't pronounce and boxes Bucky is sure he didn't see Steve leave with that morning. Bucky turned to face Steve properly, almost desperate to take away that ashen look from Steve at that comment. If the movement happened to move him a little closer to the blond, oh well. 

 “The job has its perks.”

“And what did you say you do again? Advertising?” Bucky asked, fishing.

“Yeah,” Steve answered after a beat. He was a terrible liar, Bucky noted, even if it wasn’t technically lying.    

“Advertising and they send you home with a literal trunkful of free goodies? That’s one hell of a perk,” Bucky teased, aiming for levity.

"That-," Steve started, a small smile tugging at his lip, " _is_  nice. It’s all boring stuff, like clothes and…well, I don't wear all that fancy stuff outside of work anyway. This is it." Steve gestured to his t-shirt and jeans.  Bucky raised his brows appreciatively.

"It's a good look." Bucky said aloud before catching himself with a groan.

Steve practically  _preened_.

"Ya think so?" Steve asked, lighting up with full shit-eating grin on his face.  If Bucky’s mission was to stop Steve from making that pathetic, heartbroken look on his face, he’d outdone himself with this one.

"I shouldn't have said that," Bucky groaned again, before dropping his head into his hands, cheeks hot.  "I definitely shouldn't have said that," Bucky repeated.

"Why not? Afraid I'll figure out you might actually like what you see, Buck?" Steve laughed and Bucky peeked through his fingers, Steve's smile was bright, eyes startlingly blue and the tips of his ears a little pink. He was embarrassed too. A supermodel embarrassed by a passing compliment.  Suddenly Bucky felt a little brave.

"I don’t think there was ever really a question about that, was there?" Bucky asked, trying for honest, he casually dropped his arm over the back of the couch along Steve's, fingers barely brushing Steve's arm. Steve's eyes followed up Bucky's arm, wrist to shoulder, chest to neck, drinking him in until his eyes settled on Bucky’s face, eye’s meeting his own before flitting away shyly. Steve bit a smile in his bottom lip and dropped his eyes to his lap. It was such a surprisingly innocent gesture that felt erotic.  Knowing Bucky was meeting some sort of approval in Steve’s eyes, it made his head dizzy. 

Steve gave a small shrug, staring at his lap as he said “I don’t know, maybe?” Steve brought his eyes up to Bucky’s again, hard with newfound confidence.

“ _Do_  you?” Steve asked, his voice dropping low, rough—daring.  _Sonovabitch._

“I think…” Bucky gave a shallow swallow, his nerves making his throat bone dry even though his mouth watered. “I think I’d have to be pretty blind not to,” Bucky breathed, his voice dropping and matching Steve’s own.  Bucky studied Steve’s face, how the blond still chewed on his bottom lip, how his eyes were fixated on Bucky’s own mouth.  There was still a large distance between them, but Bucky felt he could close it easily, one swift motion. Now was the moment and, still feeling brave, Bucky started to lean in, slowly, just in case he misread, just in case Steve wanted to take it back--

Steve didn’t. He met him halfway, and Bucky was beginning to think Lady Luck had been on his side after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HOORAY FOR KISSING!! Sorry for the drop-off their folks, but we'll see how that kiss went in the next chapter.
> 
> come find me on Tumblr at captainbeardburn.tumblr.com :)


	5. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky gets a case of the giggles and Steve gets a little brave. again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Massive shout out to my college french partner for giving me the material for this chapter--may he never find this!**

Bucky had pictured this moment; he’d pictured kissing Steve since the moment he’d run into him with that cup of coffee—probably before that what with him being plastered outside of Bucky’s workplace.  He pictured himself peppering kisses along that trail of light hair down his stomach, slower pecks along Steve’s jawline; he let his imagination run-off when it came to Steve.  He probably pictured Steve and himself in every scenario—wishful thinking mostly, naivety. Until now.

If his mother had told him once, she’d told him a hundred times: "life doesn’t always go how you expect it to;" which is exactly what happened when Bucky found himself in Steve’s apartment, on Steve’s couch, his lips pressed to Steve’s petal-soft lips.  Steve’s hands cupped either side of Bucky’s face, directing him, pausing for a small breath and tilting his head just so before pressing his lips back firm and Bucky melted at his touch.  Steve sighed through his nose, a contented sound, and when his tongue peeked out to Bucky’s lips…

Bucky giggled.

Bucky giggled like a fucking schoolgirl.

Steve pulled away abruptly.  His eyebrows pulled together and his smile cautious, biting his lip and asking, maybe a little self-consciously, “What’s so funny?”

Bucky’s eyes went wide but his lips still quivered, another small giggle still trapped between his teeth. “Mm-mm. Nothing, there is absolutely nothing wrong.” Bucky insisted, leaning in again presumptuously but Steve leaned further back, dodging his kiss with a giggle of his own.

“Then why’re you laughing? Was it that bad?” Steve asked, jumping to the worst conclusion.

Bucky opened his mouth stupidly and Steve raised his eyebrows, expecting an answer, but Bucky quickly snapped his jaw shut, unable to come up with an excuse. 

Why _was_ he giggling? Because in that moment Bucky realized he was kissing a _model_. Because a _model_ finds him attractive enough to want to kiss him.  Because Steve’s the _hottest guy he’s ever seen and Natasha and Clint are not going to believe this_. 

He couldn’t say that.

“I guess I’m just…I’m just really excited?” Bucky offered; not a lie.  Bucky brought his right hand up and rubbed the back of his neck, a self-conscious tell.  He couldn’t pretend like he didn’t hear how stupid that made him sound.  Steve bit his lip and smiled, clearly amused at his neighbor.

“Better excited than--”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Bucky tried regaining his composure, putting on a face of determination that caused Steve’s face to twist a little funny, something that Bucky couldn’t identify. “If you’re up for it, I wouldn’t mind trying again.”

Steve gave a smiled wince, scrunching his nose up playfully and Bucky felt his stomach flip. “I don’t know, Buck.  Laughing at a man while he tries to put on the moves -- that can really hurt a guy’s ego.”

“That’s funny, I didn't take you as the kind of guy who catered to his ego.” Bucky teased.  Steve chuckled and dropped his eyes to his lap with a shake of his head. 

“Doesn’t mean I don’t have one.” Steve mutters and Bucky realizes that he may have actually just done some unintentional damage. 

“Well I’m sorry,” Bucky said, he lowered his head, trying to catch Steve’s eyes which he was intent on keeping focused on his lap. “Steve,” blue eyes met gray and Bucky tried to give the most honest smile he could muster, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to fuck up a really great – I mean, really, really great – first kiss by being childish.  I wasn’t teasing, I really was just  _stupidly_  dumbstruck at the simple fact that you kissed me.”

Steve eyed Bucky warily and Bucky was sure he’d fucked it up.  He’d kick himself for the rest of his life if he fucked up his first – and probably only – kiss with Steve Rogers because he got giddy and a little silly.  But Steve, honest to god,  _bat_  those impossibly long lashes at him and gave a coy smile.

“It was a pretty nice kiss wasn’t it?” Steve wondered, looking bashful.

“You’re a great kisser,” Bucky insisted.

“I’ve had practice.”

“It shows; I’m a fan.”

Steve narrowed his eyes and pursed his lips. “Are you just saying that because you want to kiss me again?” He asked, a hint of cheek in his voice.

“Hmm…” Bucky frowned thoughtfully, “I guess you could say that I am… _kissing_  up to you.” Bucky beamed, and Steve laughed a boisterous sound with his whole body, and his face lit up, giving his features a boyish glow.  Almost immediately his laughter turned into a drawn out groan -- completely disgusted with himself.

“I walked right into that.”

“You did. I couldn’t  _not_  do it, you set it up for me and everything!” Bucky answered, unashamed.  He settled in beside Steve again, a comfortable closeness, and the blond eyed him, not at all fooled by it.

“I had a good time tonight.” Steve said softly over a breathy laugh.  Exactly what Bucky was expecting and didn’t want to hear.

“De- _nied.”_ Bucky groaned, understanding, and brought his hand to his chest. “You wound me, Stevie.” Bucky cried dramatically before standing up and stretching.  Steve eye-balled him from the couch, smile ever present on his face, no trace of the underlying sadness that threatened their evening initially.  Bucky would take that as a success, even at the cost of fucking up his first kiss with Steve.

Steve stood up too. “Consider us even. Seriously, I’ve never had someone actually  _laugh_  at me on the first kiss,” Steve teased playfully, walking Bucky to the door.  At least now Steve seemed to take the giggling incident in stride.

Bucky winced, “I really- that’s  _never_  happened to me before.  I don’t even  _know_  what happened and I feel like a complete idiot.”

Steve pursed his lips, considering, and Bucky was positive it was just a ploy to get Bucky looking at his pretty mouth again. “I don’t think you’re an idiot.”

Bucky gave an undignified snort, “doesn’t make me feel like any less’a one, sweetheart.  But that’s just me, fucking up a good thing.” Bucky shook his head at himself and opened the door.  “Anyways, thanks for the beer, Steve. Maybe another night—”

Bucky’s words were cut off by Steve’s mouth on his, sudden and hungry.  Bucky gave a surprised sound before exhaling loudly through his nose and placing his hands on either side of Steve’s face, the blond’s own settling on Bucky’s hips and pressing him back into the doorframe.  

“No giggling this time.” Steve growled, tilting his head and going in for Bucky’s lips again.  Steve’s soft lips pressed hard on Bucky’s own and when Steve gently licked his tongue along Bucky’s lips, Bucky couldn’t help but tip his mouth open and offer Steve inside.  Steve groaned in delight, tasting him and breathing him in, licking into Bucky’s mouth and sucking in his bottom lip.  Bucky couldn’t form a full sentence if he tried, his lips buzzing beneath Steve’s and his skin tingling where Steve’s fingers touched.  Bucky sighed happily, returning each kiss that Steve gave him eagerly, he tugged him closer, wanting the blond’s body flush with his own and Steve dug his fingers into Bucky’s hips before taking a deep breath in through his nose and pulling away slowly. Bucky kept his eyes closed, still locked in and a little dazed, and Steve pressed one more long, chaste kiss on Bucky’s lips and Bucky caught on.  When Steve pulled away the second time Bucky whined, chasing Steve’s lips –  _it couldn’t be over already_. The blond laughed, returning Bucky’s kisses chastely but ultimately pulling himself away from him.

Steve searched his eyes, a beautiful flush blooming up his neck and along his cheeks, and Bucky felt a swell of pride at being the cause of that.  Bucky was practically panting, as was Steve, and he could feel the uncomfortable tightness in his jeans and knew that with Steve pressed against him in the doorway like this, he could feel it too.  Steve gave Bucky one more kiss - short and sweet – before whispering “just so you didn’t think that kiss would be our last.”

And there Bucky goes.  _So long fellas, it’s been fun._  If you anyone needs Bucky Barnes, you’ll find him as a puddle at Steve Rogers’ feet.

Steve straightened up, and released Bucky from the vice grip of his fingers and thus, his spell.  Bucky cleared his throat and ran a hand through his hair before stepping out of Steve’s doorway completely. Steve bit his lip shyly and dropped his eyes to the floor, maybe a little embarrassed at his sudden show of bravado.

“Have a goodnight, Buck.” Steve said, shutting his apartment door slowly.

“Yeah…you too Stevie.” Bucky called back weakly, rubbing the back of his neck and shoving a hand into his pocket. “See you around.”

If Bucky walked to his own apartment with a newfound strut and an undignified fist pump into the air, well…no one could really blame him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. When I joked that this story would mainly be fluff, I wasn't expecting THIS much fluff but I am not ashamed. I love it. I'm having a blast. I love the idea that Steve is a little self-conscious even though Bucky thinks he is this infallible "Model." Also, kudos to Steve for always being the one to take initiative, if it were up to Bucky this ship would be going at a snails pace.
> 
>  
> 
> **Thank you everyone for all your sweet comments, kudos, and overall encouragement! Without the interest there would NOT be this much of a story. So _thank you, thank you._**
> 
>  
> 
> Please no concrit just yet, I'm getting out of a shit-long writer's block. Thank you for all the support! I'm feeling spoiled :)
> 
> Come fuss with me on [Tumblr](http://captainbeardburn.tumblr.com)! :)


	6. Chapter Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The trio have a fun night in, Bucky's pride is threatened, and Bucky proves to Steve that liquid courage is a very real thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Again, shout out to my college french partner, who may or may not have been Steve in this chapter.** Poor boy, he didn't stand a chance against this charismatic fool.  
>  (please note, previous sentence heavy with sarcasm: should not be taken seriously. Author not cool, smooth, or charming on any counts, just delusional.)

Admittedly, they should know better than to start the night off drinking.  But after the week Bucky had and ending with the dream come true of having Steve’s lips on his own last night, Bucky couldn’t bring himself to care about anything on Saturday.

Clint and Natasha picked up on the change in his usually scowly, stressed demeanor the minute they had arrived at his apartment, two full bags of Chinese food and two cases of beer.  Couple that with the vodka and whiskey Bucky had already pulled out for the occasion, the trio were set to get nice and cozy within the comforts of Bucky’s abode. They pestered him for only a minute, but for once let it lie when Bucky waved them off, probably knowing better than Sober Bucky that Buzzed Bucky was a talker, and Drunk Bucky could not, and  _would_ not, keep his mouth shut for long…

 

* * *

 

 

 “You did  _what_?” Clint hiccupped.  Clint was practically a ball, curled in on himself on Bucky’s couch, eyes red and watery from the fit of laughter he could no longer hold in.  He held his stomach.

“Guys, come on…I already feel bad…” Bucky whined.

“ _James_ …James you didn’t. Tell me you didn’t.” Natasha asked almost seriously, already liquored up, her eyes wide and smile wider – a sure sign that telling Nat and Clint was going to be the worst decision Bucky ever made.

“Say—say it again…do it, Barnes…say it again; what you did!” Clint demanded, pointing a finger at the brunet, his face twisted in teasing.  Bucky sighed at himself, he should’ve known better,  _dammit he really should have._

“James…look at me.” Natasha said, her tone still that feigned seriousness.  She fought a smile, pulling her lips between her teeth as the corners of her mouth threatened to pull up again.  “Steve kissed you, and – after weeks of pining – your response was…”

“I giggled like a little girl.” Bucky deadpanned for the fifth time this  _hour._

They howled. Natasha was falling into Clint as the blond wasn’t even laughing anymore, the only sound coming out of him was a heavy wheeze, tears fell freely now and between the two of them Bucky was pretty sure he was never going to forget this – ever; as if that were actually possible to begin with.

They call it ‘Gigglegate.’

 

* * *

 

 

After the two  _children_  recovered from poking fun at their supposed friend, the three sat around Bucky’s coffee table picking at the last of their now cold dinner.  Clint’s face was still a little red while Natasha was wiping the remnants of her bleeding mascara from under her eyes.  Still, with the warmth of the food and the alcohol in their bellies (along with the fun at their friend’s expense) bringing their spirits up, Natasha and Clint went back to their usual drunk routine – trying to fix Bucky’s love life.

“So…you went to leave and he just man-handled you into another mack session? Dude.” Clint asked, eyebrows high.

“Pretty much. I really thought I fucked it up with the…” Bucky paused—scowl on—as his friends held their breath in anticipation, “ _giggling_.” Clint gave a snort and Natasha smiled down into her carton of orange chicken.

“I doubt it really would’ve, I bet he thought it was cute.” Natasha offered, picking up an eggroll.  Bucky frowned and giving a half-hearted shrug, still unconvinced.

“Dude literally makes out with you before you walk out the door, intentions fully clear I’m sure, and you’re sitting here acting like he shoved you out his door with nothing.” Clint adds, “Seriously, Barnes. I think you’re just  _looking_  for reasons to believe the guy doesn’t like you.”

Bucky winces at that, feeling it in his gut that it’s true.  “It’s just…Steve is  _literally one of the hottest guys on the planet_ \--”

“And you’re not so bad yourself, bud.” Clint offers, patting Bucky’s knee.

“Does he know that you know?” Natasha asks thoughtfully, when Bucky’s answer is just a sheepish look, she slams her orange chicken on the table. “Are you serious, James?”

Bucky winces again. “I wanted to tell him, I really did but…sometimes the guy says things that just sound so sad.  I think he really likes having someone who isn’t into him for all that.” Bucky waves a hand in the air, but Natasha doesn’t buy it.

“But that’s not really true is it? Because you  _do_  know.” Natasha points out, crossing her arms.

“Well,  _yeah_ , but I don’t like him just because he’s a Marvel Model! It’s just a perk.” Bucky insists.  Natasha narrows her eyes and Clint keeps his eyes down on his own food.  Natasha gives a small sigh and uncrosses her arms, resting them on either side of her—her soapbox pose.

“Remember when you came back from Afghanistan and I got you back into Stark Industries?” Natasha asks coolly.  _And so it begins…_  “You were so nervous.  Your very first day you were late, remember why?”

Bucky remembers exactly why and his eyes immediately bore a hole into the top of Clint’s head.  His very first day working for Stark, he was late because Clint wouldn’t let him up because he didn’t have a badge yet.  Even after the assurance of Dr. Banner calling and vouching for him. Clint wouldn’t let him up until Dr. Banner himself came downstairs and had to sign him in.  The whole fiasco took over an hour. 

“I remember you came up to my office at lunch and complained for the entire hour about some…what was it?  _Ah yes,_  ‘punk ass crop top,’”

Clint squawked,

“And you just kept going and going and going.” Natasha mimed with her hand, rolling her eyes. “I didn’t say anything, but for an entire week you did nothing but bitch and whine about the security guard who gave you trouble every morning.

“It wasn’t until that Friday that I introduced you to my new boyfriend, Clint Barton.” Natasha finished, giving Clint a rare look of fondness. “You were so mad that I hadn’t told you from the very beginning--”

“I wasn’t  _mad_ ,” Bucky insisted, “I felt stupid that you let me say as much as I did.”

“How do you think Steve will feel?” Natasha asked sharply. “When he finds out you’ve known all this time what he does and you just let him pretend.  Do you think he’ll feel stupid?”

Bucky quickly dropped his eyes and looked at his feet.  He knew her point the minute she started the story, but it still hit its mark.  He really hadn’t thought about that, about how Steve would feel. 

Did he actually think Bucky still didn’t know?  Steve wasn’t exactly sneaky, just vague…On that note, was  _Steve_  ever planning on telling  _Bucky?_  If Bucky didn’t already know, would Steve ever tell him or just let him live in his own little world?

 _What if he never even intended for Bucky to know_ , Bucky thought to himself in horror; what if Steve just figured he could get in Bucky’s pants and that was it—Bucky condensed into a weak and convenient moment in Steve’s past with fame, a mediocre notch in his belt. Could Bucky really blame him? Steve’s a  _fucking millionaire supermodel_ , why get tied down to a civilian when he could be partying up on some yacht full of fellow ‘tens.’ Steve didn’t seem like the type to hit it and quit it, but then again, what did Bucky really know about Steve Rogers?

Bucky felt the bile rise in his throat, acrid and sour.  He didn’t want that.  Sure, Bucky from five or six years ago would’ve been all over that.  _Fuck,_ this would’ve been over already, but  _now_ , though? That thought made Bucky’s stomach drop.  When had Bucky become invested?  Sure, he wasn’t expecting to  _walk down the aisle_  with Steve, but he couldn’t even lie to himself that the idea of a relationship, intertwining their lives, appealed to him far more than a one nighter—even if that one night would be with Steve-fucking-Rogers.

That was the other problem though, as much as Bucky talked about Steve Rogers: Marvel Supermodel and his profession, Bucky he didn’t care. He liked  _Steve._ Bucky wanted  _Steve_ , not the model, just the guy: his neighbor. He couldn’t care less if the model thing ever came up, it doesn’t matter...

But it does.

They’ve only kissed. Fuck, he’s only had a taste and he’s already crazy for it; cue the existential crisis!  _God Bucky must be drunk._

“I think I really like him, Nat.” Bucky finally admitted softly, if it wasn’t for the alcohol pumping through his veins, he probably would’ve never said that, not so soon. Not now.

“I know,” she answered, hand reaching out and resting softly on his wrist. “But if you try and build a relationship on a foundation of lies? Everything will eventually crumble, no matter how good the rest of it is.”

Bucky nodded, he knew she was right, of course she was; even drunk Natasha was always right.

The three picked at their food a little more delicately after that, the lightness and fun seemingly gone. These talks were always a little sobering, but even he couldn’t lie that alcohol loosened up his mind and his mouth.  He was beginning to think that this little night in was a ruse, a trick to get Bucky’s defenses down.  Bucky was picking at a piece of pork at the bottom of his carton when Clint kicked his foot from under the coffee table, Bucky looked up to see Clint’s face was in a hard frown.

“’Punk ass  _crop top?’”_

Bucky smirked and took another long pull off his beer; spell broken. Like he said, the talk was almost sobering. Almost.

 

* * *

 

 

They'd dared him.

Bucky should've seen through it for the ploy that it was, but  _saying he didn’t have the courage to ask Steve out?_  Sober Bucky would’ve let them tease, Six(?)-beers-and-four(?)-shots-wasted Bucky was not having any of it and stupidly said so. They dared him to ask Steve out – right now.

“I’ll do it!” Bucky bellowed, as if it were a threat.

“Go on!” Natasha goaded.

“Nah, he’ll wuss out, that’s what he is ya know…a wussy.” Clint prodded casually.

And that’s how Bucky found himself pounding on Steve’s door at one in the morning Saturday night, well, technically Sunday now but who's paying attention.

Steve answered the door in his boxers and a tight white tee ( _of fucking course_ ), but he didn’t look like a man woken out of a sound sleep.  Bucky could see it, the paint on Steve’s fingers, splatters on his shirt. He stepped into the hall and closed the door behind him a little as if to stop Bucky form peeking inside, maybe he was worried Bucky would make a move on his  _Peggy_  painting…Bucky snorted to himself at that.

“Bucky? What’re you doing? It’s the middle of the night.” Steve said, confused.

“Go out with me.” Bucky practically demanded; Steve’s eyes went wide.

“Say what?”

“Go out with me. Mmm, tomorrow! Let’s go out tomorrow…tonight? Is that too soon?” Bucky repeated, the liquid courage pooling in his chest, he could hear Clint and Natasha giggling from his door, probably filming him.  Sober Bucky would be appalled, Sober Bucky wouldn’t be here, but Drunk Bucky’s pride was threatened. Steve’s mouth hung wide, but he pulled it into an open smile, amused, and leaned against his door.  The very doorframe he had Bucky propped against just last night.

“Bucky, are you drunk?” Steve asked, though he knew his answer.

“No. Not drunk, not sober, but not drunk.” Still a lie. He was drunk, but not enough to not understand what he was doing, his actions were spurred more from his competitiveness than anything. Still, he could feel the world spin at his feet. “All the same though.  I…I wanted to ask you before—yesterday—but I couldn’t, you’re so…" Bucky took a step back and blatently looked the blond up and down. "God, Steve, you’re so  _pretty_.” Steve’s eyebrows hit his hairline and his smile grew wider. “And you-you’re nice, you’re funny, witty, you paint” Bucky rambled, pointing at the paint on Steve’s shirt. “Will you please, please do a guy a solid an-and let me take you out on a date?  Treat ya real nice, like a fella  _should_ , instead of bustin’ in on ya at fucking knows what time.” Bucky drawled, chastising himself, looking for his phone, for the time.

“What if tomorrow rolls around and you don’t even remember asking me.” Steve asked, sincerity and cheek rolled into his tone.

“He’ll remember!” Natasha called, and Steve practically jumped out of his skin, he didn’t realize there was an audience.

“Believe us…we won’t let him forget!” Clint shouted louder than necessary.

“'Nd I’m  _not_ even that drunk.” Bucky insisted.

“He’s really not!” Natasha agreed.

“None of us are!” Clint added.

Steve’s eyes darted between the three of them, incredulity on his face. Bucky could read the seeds of doubt.

“Wait, wait.” Bucky paused, then straightened his spine and inhaled deeply, before exhaling away his nerves. “Steve, I know it's late, and you probably think I'm crazy and let's face it, you probably aren't wrong but...I was wondering if you’d like to go get dinner and maybe a movie with me tomorrow night. Just the two of us.”

Steve’s eyes softened, though they were never really hard, he seemed more charmed by the man in front of him than anything, and looked at him considering. “You’re not just asking me because of the booze?”

“ _Of course he’s asking because of the booze, ya think an eight’d have the balls to ask a_  solid  _twenty out on a date sober?!_ ” Clint screamed as he was pulled back into Bucky’s apartment by a probably equally amused and angry Natasha.

Bucky blew out a deep breath. “I'm...I’m not asking you because of the booze, but I'm not going to lie to you and say that I didn't need some liquid courage to get me here. I meant what I said earlier…I really do think all those things aboutcha…even sober.” Bucky assured with a cocky smirk, and Steve blushed then, looking at his paint splattered hands, then back up to Bucky’s face through impossibly long, dark eyelashes.

“Okay.”

Bucky lit up. “Okay?”

“Yeah. Meet me out here at seven.” Steve said with a smile, taking a step backwards into his apartment, “and don’t forget.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, sweetheart.” Bucky grinned wider as Steve slowly closed the door between them, still peeking out at him shyly. “It’s a date.” Bucky promised.

“It’s a date.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was very fun to write! A LOT needed to be covered in this chapter to prep for the next. I finally have an outline for how the story is going to go/end, so this chapter became a bit of a mixed bag, I hope it still flowed ok!
> 
> I wanted to see Bucky, Clint, and Natasha let their hair down and I like the idea that when they get loose, they go HARD. While this event seems a little random in the story, in my mind this sort of thing happens with them once or twice a month, so while Bucky should be very much aware of his limits, he just has no self control like so many other twenty-somethings. 
> 
> Feel free to let me know of any glaring errors and also let me know what you think! I love to read all of your guys' comments! Please no concrit just yet, this block is tapering off I hope and I don't want to get sucked back into it's sneaky hate spiral. 
> 
> Come fuss with me on [ tumblr](http://captainbeardburn.tumblr.com)! I'd love to hear what you all think :)


	7. Chapter Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky and Steve go on their first date.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ****Please note the RATING CHANGE and additional tags.****
> 
>  
> 
> I don't know how this happened. This chapter is longer than usual folks (@ 6.1k), but I didn't feel it was appropriate to try and break it up since the events all take place within one evening. I don't anticipate chapters of this length to be the norm. Again: story unbeta'd and hastily edited. Any glaring errors are my own. 
> 
> Also: There is a _very_ brief sexist joke made by Bucky about 1/2 way into the chapter. Again, it's small and Bucky recognizes it later and really kicks himself for it. I just wanted to address it here before the pitchforks were out. He's learning.

“So uh…what does someone wear on a date with an internationally known supermodel?” Bucky asked lamely, freshly shaved and showered, in front of his closet.  Natasha and Clint were sprawled out on his bed, Clint’s head propped on the headboard and focused on his phone with Natasha’s head resting on his stomach.  Both ended up staying overnight, too drunk to even catch a taxi, and while Bucky and Clint were nursing some killer hangovers, Natasha woke up bright eyed and bushy tailed, ready for the day and obnoxious about it too.  Bucky cursed her superior Russian liver.

“Already decided - far right.” Natasha instructed.  Bucky reached to the end of his hangers to see Natasha had already paired an outfit – a soft grey sweater with dark washed jeans.  He raised his brows suspiciously at the red head who quirked a smirk back at him. “The color will accentuate your pretty eyes, trust me.” She cooed. It paid off having a ‘ _girlfriend_ ,’ even if she was a little shit most days. Bucky definitely did not inherit the supposed ‘fashion-savvy’ gay-gene. 

Bucky changed right there, after two tours in the army he could no longer say he was shy, and Natasha and Clint had seen far worse than his pastey white ass.  He straightened his ensemble, pushing the sleeves up to the elbows.  Natasha clucked at him, rising up and stretching cat-like before standing behind his shoulder, studying him in the mirror. She rested her chin on his shoulder and reminded him, “you know, it’s not too late to get that haircut.”

“My hair’s fine.” Bucky frowned, running his fingers through it.  It was long, he couldn’t deny that, but it wasn’t untamable.  He smoothed it out, his hands a little greasy from the product drying in his hair, and tucked a stray piece behind his ear.

Clint gave a low whistle behind him. “Damn son, you clean up nice.”

Bucky smirked, he was rather impressed himself.  He forgot he could clean up pretty nice.  As a teenager he was full of cocky confidence and untouchable swagger, charming his way into the panties of women (and men) alike.  After the Army, his shoulder, after the physical therapy and the recovering PTSD, the sheen in his confidence had faded.  He didn’t consider himself still broken, he knew he was far better off than most that came home with a Purple Heart pinned to their chest, but seeing himself gussied up like this reminded the former sergeant of what he could be - what he still was - even if his cheekbones were a little sharper and his eyes a little more sunken.

“Very handsome.” Natasha whispered, kissing Bucky on the cheek before slipping away. “So I already set up your reservation at Artu, it’s at seven-thirty, Claudia is expecting you and she is very excited” Bucky rolled his eyes good naturedly, “and The English Agent is playing at nine. So be ready for that…”

“Ain't that the spy action flick? How do you even know Steve likes action movies, anyway? Why not that buddy cop movie or whatever…that mall cop one.” Bucky asked over his shoulder.  Natasha shrugged guiltily and Bucky felt his shoulders drop in disappointment.  “You googled him again didn't you, Nat.”

“It was his twitter, he was gushing about special effects and how far the modern action flick has come. You’d already know that if you were actually on twitter. Also, I don’t know why you’re so against it! It’s a resource, why not use it?” Natasha asked, defending herself.

“We went over this, Nat, it’s creep and rude.” Clint deadpanned from his seat on the bed.

“Really fucking rude.” Bucky nodded as Natasha rolled her eyes.

“Well…if he wants to see a different movie then you can figure it out.” She continued, ice in her tone.

“Do you have a print-out of our itinerary? Or will there be a powerpoint presentation of the night's festivities.” Bucky teased, admittedly sounding ungrateful.

Natasha pursed her lips, tilting her chin up defiantly before she said, with a cocky smirk, “there’s a condom and a packet of lube in your wallet. Don’t lose it…or get busted being presumptuous.”

Bucky paled, his eyes bulging out of his head as he whipped around at her in a panic.  He hadn’t thought of that. Bucky’d been so caught up in just _asking_  Steve on a date he didn’t even consider how the night could  _end._  

“Woah, woah,  _woah.”_  Clint stood up and grabbed ahold of Bucky’s shoulders, he hadn’t even realized he was swaying where he stood, he felt light-headed and faint. “It’s ok, Bucky. Relax, man.  It’s just a date, the first date, so no one is going to expect you to slip your panties to the side.  You just gotta be prepared, just in case.”

Bucky brought his hand to his forehead, fuck, it was already slick with sweat, what little confidence he just had was out the window and his hands were shaking. “Why am I so sweaty?” Bucky gasped, sitting on the bed next to Natasha, who began rubbing patient circles on his back immediately.

“Calm down, James. You’re just nervous and that’s ok.”

“No it’s not! It’s not like I’ve never been on a date before. It’s not like I’ve never had sex after one date, or, or a one night stand.” Bucky felt the panic rise in his chest and forced a sigh, he didn’t know where this anxiety bubbled up from, it really didn’t make sense to him. “I mean, yeah, it’s been a little while since I’ve been on a  _real_  date, work’s been kicking my ass, but…” Bucky raised his shaking hands in front of him, “really?! The shakes?”

Natasha pursed her lips. “It’s just a date, James, with your neighbor. The one you’ve had over a dozen interactions with already. Hell you’ve already kissed. The worst part is over, at least you already know he’s interested, and from what you’ve spoken of him, he doesn’t sound like a man who would go into a date with those sort of expectations. It’s just dinner with your neighbor Steve.”

Bucky bit his lip and inhaled deeply, held it, and exhaled loudly. “Just a dinner with my  _neighbor_.”

“And a movie,” Clint chirped.

“And a movie with my  _neighbor_.”

“Who’s also a model.” Clint continued.

“Clint!” Natasha scolded, but Bucky’s mouth pulled into a small smile anyways. “James, you’ve been daydreaming dates with “Cap” for months now, you had to have thought of what could happen on an actual date.”

“Well…most of our dates in my imagination didn’t exactly reach…outside, with  _conversation_.” Bucky admitted, and Natasha rolled her eyes for the millionth time in the last hour. “ _Plus_ , who would’ve thought that in a city with over eight million people,  _I_  would end up living next door to the hunky underwear model plastered outside my work.”  Bucky groaned, too far past embarrassed at this point.  After a beat, Bucky looked at the clock – 06:50 pm – it was time. He stood up to take one last look at the dead man walking, smoothed his hair one more time. 

“Ok, not half-starved-overworked-underpaid-engineer is a good look for you; I can comfortably say you’re rocking a ten.” Clint nodded approvingly, and Bucky ducked his head shyly, his confidence not quite what it was earlier, but a little better, and he appreciated it nonetheless.

“Gotta be, I’m taking Captain- _fucking_ -America out for dinner.” Bucky said, his voice filling with hesitant hope after every syllable. It was really happening.

“Relax. It’s not Captain America, it’s Steve Rogers. You’ll be ok.” Natasha said, patting his chest. “All you have to do is keep your charm turned on and for  _God’s sake, next weekend I am taking you to get a haircut._ ”

Clint clapped Bucky’s shoulder. “Just whatever you do…don’t think about him in his underwear.” Clint added cheekily -  _well great, now that wasn’t going to fucking happen._  Clint gave Bucky a knowing grin and his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. Bucky flushed a pale red and sighed, taking in one last look, and accepting that there was nothing else he could do. He went next door to fetch his neighbor.

 

* * *

 

 

When Bucky first saw Steve come out after Bucky knocked, he nearly keeled over on the spot.  Steve looked amazing dressed in a blue checkered button up, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and blue jeans. His hair looked soft with his bangs swept lazily to one side, and the first thing that Bucky noticed were how impossibly blue his eyes looked as they lit up at the sight of the brunet outside his door.

“I was worried you’d forget.” Steve chuckled as he locked his door.

“What? Because I was drunk off my ass? Nah. I don’t forget about making plans with a guy like you, sweetheart."

“Guy like me.” Steve said, waving his arm to let Bucky lead the way down the stairs. “And what kind of guy is that?”

“I already toldya last night.” Bucky answered with a sheepish smile, “you’re nice and funny and –“

“Pretty.” Steve added with a smile, a blush rising in the blond’s cheeks.

“Right, yeah…pretty, I said that too.” Bucky laughed. “All around though, that can make a fella pretty unforgettable.” Bucky explained with a voice softer than he intended.  He was a couple steps ahead of Steve’s long strides, and when the blond hooked his elbow and turned Bucky to face him, Bucky was completely shocked to find himself met with the softness of Steve’s lips, a smile behind them.  It was quick, just a peck, but it sparked a fire in Bucky’s belly that practically quelled all the anxious nerves that had settled there.

 

* * *

 

 

The restaurant was small, a hole in the wall establishment a few blocks from their building.  It was a nice restaurant, family owned, with only twenty or so tables.  It was popular on the weekends, so getting a reservation was smart of Natasha, but the way Claudia ran to Bucky the minute he walked in the door with Steve, he didn’t think it would’ve been a problem.

“ _James!”_  Claudia said cheerfully, stepping onto her toes and kissing the brunet’s cheek. “Where have you been? I have not seen you in so long, I thought maybe you don’t like my cooking – started getting gnocchis elsewhere.” Claudia scolded in her heavy Italian accent. Bucky winced, he knew it’d been a while, but he was also a little embarrassed at Claudia practically calling him out in front of Steve.

They were seated at a table in the corner, wine already poured and served. Bucky, ever the gentleman, offered Steve the side that faced the other patrons, Steve gently declined and sat with his back to the room while Bucky slid into his own seat.  It wasn’t until he started pretending to browse the menu that he realized another issue with dating Captain America.

The guy is famous.  He probably wanted to sit with his back to the restaurant to avoid being recognized.

Bucky swallowed audibly, suddenly paranoid and glancing around the room sporadically, unable to focus.  He started bouncing his leg and mumbling, a nervous tick, when Steve pulled him out of his paranoia.

“Can’t believe I’ve lived in Brooklyn my whole life and I’ve never known about this place.” Steve huffed in amazement, his eyes bouncing around the room taking in the authenticity of it.

“One of my favorites.  They make all of it, the noodles and sauce, all from scratch; none of that out the box stuff here.” Bucky bragged as if the place was his own.

“Sounds great. I’ve been living on boxed dinner meals since I got back.” The look on Bucky’s face must’ve translated exactly what Bucky was thinking as Steve shook his head with a short laugh. “I know, I know. But I can’t cook for shit, I’d probably burn water. Actually I probably have, I’ve ruined one or two pots from forgetting about putting water on to boil.”

Bucky continued to look at him in disbelief. “And I live right next to you? Should I be worried about my belongings, ya walking fire hazard.”

“Nah. I mostly do microwave dinners now anyways.” Steve shrugged.

“That can’t be good for business.” Bucky mused.  Steve narrowed his eyes and gave him a confused but polite smile before Bucky could even realize what he’d said. “I mean…I mean all that microwavable crap isn’t exactly healthy.  You look like a guy who takes pride in your…” Bucky backpedaled, Steve’s eyes lit up realizing what Bucky was saying. “Your…”

“My…” Steve prompted, tilting his head slightly with a shit eating grin stretched across his face.

“Health.”

Steve groaned in feigned disappointment and Bucky laughed with him, his ears burning hot. “Yeah, I do worry about my health – who doesn’t? But I’ve been told on more than one occasion my metabolism is freaky efficient, and when I’m travelling for work I’m a bit too spoiled in healthy foods, so I can cheat for a few days between jobs.” Steve explained with a shrug as he finally brought his attention to the menu in front of him. Steve practically beamed at him, looking genuinely excited at the choices, and Bucky couldn’t help but feel the flutter in his chest for that smile.

 

* * *

 

 

The conversation flowed freely and easily for the boys, much to Bucky’s honest surprise.  Steve acted as an open book and Bucky found himself learning a lot about the blond: he was an only child, his father passed away when he was young and his mother fell victim to cancer when Steve was only seventeen. “I’ve been living on my own ever since,” He says with a sad smile that pulls at all the wrong places in Bucky’s heart, making him feel an overwhelming urge to change it, which is what happens when Steve visibly brightens as he talks about his paintings. He loves art, all forms; drawing and charcoals are his preferred, though he’s enjoying a new challenge of a digital medium.  Steve also loves to travel, he gets a lot of his artistic inspiration through site-seeing, but Brooklyn will always be home.  He would love to enter his work into a gallery someday, but right now he’s too overwhelmed with work that he can’t really invest properly in his hobby.

Steve asked a lot about Bucky too, his job, his friends.  He seemed particularly interested when Bucky spoke of his responsibilities as a lead biomechanical engineer for Stark Industries.  Bucky tried not to show his true inner nerd by getting too giddy about the intricacies of the new prosthetics they’re developing for veterans.  Bucky briefly mentioned his time in the war, but he didn’t go into details and Steve didn’t push – he’s good with that, Bucky noticed, he never forces Bucky to say more than he wants.  It made Bucky feel guiltier that he spent the night continuously fishing for Steve to tell him the true nature of his work. Maybe if Steve would come right out and say it, Bucky could ebb away some of the guilt bubbling under his ribcage.

It doesn’t come up though.

 

* * *

 

 

Steve’s laughter is a musical sound that seems to come from his whole body, and it makes Bucky eager to hear it again and again throughout the night.  Steve wiped away tears from the corners of his eyes as Bucky talked.

“I mean it though.” Bucky insisted. “All those hallway encounters, laundry day meet ups, those could be dates right?”

“They weren’t intentional, Buck.” Steve laughed.

“So? Call me spontaneous. If we factor in all those times, this isn’t even the first date. It’s like the twentieth or something.” Bucky says, rolling his hand with meaning.

“Does this mean I don’t have to feel guilty about putting out?”

Bucky choked on his last bite of fettucine and something flickered in Steve’s eyes that Bucky felt wholly underqualified for.

“I mean twentieth date, that calls for some sort of bedroom action right?” Steve continued. Bucky flailed internally. “Or restaurant action…or movie action…” Steve said with cheek.

_Good Lord._

On the outside, Bucky was cool, calm, and collected.

“Wait, what?”  _Smooth_. Steve barked a laugh.

“Bucky, relax. Sorry, it was a joke. Really, there aren’t any expectations.” Steve’s laughter dissipated to giggles as Bucky visibly relaxed.

“That’s funny. I thought you were a nice guy, but so far tonight I think the most important thing I’ve learned about you is that you’re just a little shit.” Bucky mumbled half-heartedly. Steve’s grin only grew.

“Yeah, but for tonight I’m just  _your_  little shit.” Steve joked as he peeked over his plate at Bucky from under long lashes.  Bucky felt his lungs empty all at once at seeing Steve look at him like that, happy and beautiful. Bucky found himself wishing the night didn’t have to end at all.

 

* * *

 

 

They talked for so long they shut the kitchen down. It wasn’t until Claudia finally, and apologetically, kicked them out, that they realized they were the last patrons in the restaurant.

“I’m pretty sure we missed our movie.” Bucky joked, his watch read 11:15. He was supposed to work tomorrow but…

“Eh. Wouldn’t have been able to talk in the movie.” Steve said with indifference.

“Not talkin’ ain’t all that bad depending on why you’re not doing it.” Bucky said a little flirtatiously.  The evening going well enough that Bucky was feeling a little brave. “Ain’tcha ever made out in a theater before, Stevie?”

Bucky saw Steve shrug his shoulders up as he bit his lip shyly. Bucky stopped in his tracks.

“You honestly never got cozy with someone during a movie?” Bucky asked incredulously and Steve spun around to him, index finger pointed.

“Ah, you said theater. I’ve made out during a movie, but I’ve never had the luxury of doing so in a movie theater.” Steve grinned and Bucky rolled his eyes.

“Details, details.” Bucky said, waving a hand pathetically.

Steve took a deep inhale through his nose. “It’s a shame though.”  Bucky raised his eyebrows in question. “Wouldn’t have minded you being my first.”

Bucky flushed scarlet all at once, grateful for the inconsistent street lighting, unable to expose him. His mouth dropped open as he felt a little dumbstruck, before pulling it into an open grin. “Really just a little shit.” Bucky said, shaking his head and striding past the blond.

“Well…not  _little_.”

“Steeeeeeeeeve!” Bucky cried, embarrassed that he was chubbing a little in his jeans at the mere thought of Steve beneath him.

Steve laughed loudly. “Ok, ok. Jeez, I didn’t realize you were such a delicate flower.”

“I’m not a delicate flower, I just…ya know…first date and all.” Bucky laughed lowly, unable to come up with a real explanation for his recent modesty about sex.  Usually  _he_  was the one cracking sex jokes, but everything with Steve seemed to tilt Bucky on just the right side of imbalance.  It was thrilling and he liked it.

“I thought this was our twentieth date.”

Bucky rolled his eyes exaggeratedly. “Calm down, pretty boy. I’m a good girl, I ain’t gunna let you corrupt me so easy.”

“Oh?” Steve raised his eyebrows and gave a wide, mischievous smile, accepting the unspoken challenge. Bucky stopped and poked Steve in the chest.

“Good.”  _Poke._  “Girl.”  _Poke._

Steve gave a low chuckle, and licked his lips in a way that made fire pool in Bucky’s groin. Steve watched him as Bucky let his eyes rake up and down Steve’s body freely, biting his lip.  

“You keep calling me ‘pretty’ and I might start thinking you like what you see.” Steve growled low, authority imbuing his tone deeply and Bucky felt his knees give a little.

Bucky bit the inside of his cheek hard, then pressed his tongue to the spot, Steve’s eyes drawn to Bucky’s mouth instantly. “We’ve played this game before.  If I remember right,” Bucky paused, taking a step closer to the blond, mano a mano, “we already established that I do, in fact, like what I see. A lot.”

Steve’s eyes stayed on Bucky’s mouth as he spoke, but instead of taking the bait, Steve cocked a small smirk and continued walking to their building. “Good.” Bucky’s confidence wavered a bit, but he quickly recovered, matching Steve’s long strides and walking in silence the rest of the way.  He tried to ignore the lightness in his chest and tried not to smile too giddily when Steve took Bucky’s hand in his own.

 

* * *

 

 

They walked in silence the rest of the way to the apartment and Bucky replayed the night over and over in his head, scrambling in his mind for what he’d done wrong.  The conversation between them was easy, it didn’t feel forced at all. So what could he have said that shut Steve down?  Was it the ‘good girl’ joke? Oh  _God,_  had he really offended Steve with that?  It seemed harmless, but had his stupid outdated sexist joke actually offended Steve? He did work in an industry heavily focused on, and comprising of, women. Somewhere Bucky knew that he was reaching, that his brain was conspiring against him, whittling at his confidence to give way for self-doubt. Then again he had read somewhere that Steve was an active feminist. Bucky considered himself one too, but he made mistakes.  Natasha thumped him and Clint often for lapses in their thinking. Dammit. The night was going so good,  _too_  good, it was just Bucky’s luck for him to punt it in the home stretch by making Steve think he was being a sexist ass.   _But Steve had held his hand the entire way home,_ Bucky thought to himself.

Bucky walked Steve to his door as Steve fumbled with his keys in the lock, and it had given Bucky plenty of time to talk himself down, all previous feelings of confidence gone.  Bucky wished him a good night, “It’s been fun. I really…I really wanna do it again sometime soon, if you’ll have me.” Bucky muttered sheepishly, still hopeful but convinced he’d ruined this evening somehow, but he wasn’t about to ask how. 

Steve said nothing, just turned to Bucky and placed a firm hand on the nape of Bucky’s neck, pulling him in for a kiss. It was white hot, languorous, but almost chaste in its sincerity and Bucky felt a warmth from the soles of his feet to the tips of his ears, he could feel Steve smile against his lips.

“It doesn’t have to be over yet…if you don’t want it to be.” Steve whispered to his jaw, pulling Bucky’s willing body and pinning himself to the door with Bucky flush against him.  Bucky’s hands rested tentatively on Steve’s waist, gliding up to his ribs as he buried his own face in the space between Steve neck and shoulder, breathing deep as he felt Steve pull him a little tighter. “If you tell me to stop, I’ll stop.” Steve husked in his ear.

“I don’t want it to be over.” Bucky breathed, and that was it. Steve grabbed Bucky’s jaw and pushed his door open, the boys tumbling inside leaving Bucky’s hesitation and doubt of the evening at the door.

They crashed into Steve’s apartment burning hot, a blur of limbs and hands, lips and teeth.  Bucky groaned into Steve’s mouth as his hands grappled Steve’s shoulders, down his arms, along his ribs where he sunk his fingertips in.  Steve let out a gasp, pawing at Bucky just as feverishly.

“Bedroom. The bedroom.” Steve gasped into Bucky’s mouth, pulling the man in the direction of his bed while also pulling off Bucky’s shirt and his own.  Steve walked backwards, still kissing Bucky while guiding him back with him, Steve’s knees giving when they’d reached the bed. 

Eyes locked, Steve held Bucky’s eyes as he pushed himself backwards onto the bed, propping his left arm behind his head and curling his right index finger to Bucky;  _come here._

Bucky crawled over him willingly, but slowly, the air shifting between them from quick and desperate to slow and savoring, Bucky kissing along Steve’s body slowly until he reached his hard prick beneath his jeans, lingering there to mouth at the denim. Steve brought his right hand into Bucky’s hair, tangling it gently with a hiss as Bucky pulled the button of his jeans open.  He pulled out Steve’s cock, hard and flushed and big, licking slowly from base to tip.

“You got stuff?” Bucky asked before letting his tongue take another long drag along the length of Steve dick.

Steve lay lax and dazed but rolled over to the drawer beside his bed and pulled out lube and a condom.

“Do you…how do you want this?” Bucky asked, after everything they talked about tonight ‘ _Top or Bottom’_ did not get covered. 

Steve moaned as Bucky mouthed at his dick, nipping and teething at the frenulum. “I don’t…I don’t care. You can fuck me, but if you don’t put your mouth on my dick in the next five seconds I’m going to explode – and not the fun kind.” Steve squirmed desperately.

“There won’t be too much fun if you explode now either way.” Bucky chuckled lowly, but he put the poor boy out of his misery and sucked him down in one slow movement knowing Steve could feel every inch of Bucky’s mouth going in.  Steve let out a long moan, both hands finding their way tangled in Bucky’s hair. Bucky kept his pace slow but made sloppy work of it, he lapped and sucked, pressing his tongue firmly along the shaft while Steve gave a high gasp every time Bucky pulled out enough to flick his tongue at the head. ‘ _Ah. Ah. Ah.’_

When Steve started to get greedy Bucky slowed down  _even more_ , smirking around his cock, he didn’t want to stop too quickly, but eventually Bucky came off his dick with a  _pop_  and began tugging at his own hard, neglected cock. “Bucky…” Steve breathed softly, his arm stretched out reaching for him, eyes glazed over and fixed on Bucky’s cock, and dammit if that wasn’t music to his ears hearing this beautiful man say his name like that, so sweetly.

“Shh…Don’t worry. I’m gunna make you feel so good, sweetheart.”

Bucky sat between Steve’s legs, spread wide, as he fingered him nice and slow. Steve’s left leg was rested on Bucky’s right shoulder, bending at the knee. Easy access for kissing along his calf, the inside of his knee or thigh.

Steve’s breath hitched, resorting to broken whimpers and high pitched moans as Bucky expertly curled one finger inside his body. Steve had taken it so well, his body hot and welcoming almost right up to the second knuckle on the first try. “Ungh…ah…hah…” Steve’s hands fisted the blankets and pillows around his head, his body flushed with a radiant pink that reached all the way to that treasure trail of hairs at Steve’s groin.

Bucky kissed the inside of Steve’s knee softly, eyes fixed on the blond’s face as his finger pumped steady in and out of Steve’s body. “You look so good, Stevie, so pretty.”

All Steve could offer back was a quiet mewl, arching his back as Bucky slowly introduced another finger into his body, gently coaxing that tight ringed muscle to let him in. “Oh…oh, Buck. Buck, Bucky…” Steve hissed in pleasure, hand raised to the headboard and using it leverage himself to push back on Bucky’s fingers, fucking himself. Bucky moaned,  _God_ , this was everything Bucky had dreamt about with Cap, taking him apart piece by piece, slowly. Exploring the planes of his taut body with his hands, his fingers, his tongue and lips. Steve had practically screamed when Bucky had licked up the blond’s balls, up his shaft, before engulfing him in his mouth and swallowing him down again just as before. His pace matched his fingers - slow and concise, practiced. Bucky brought Steve to the edge again, felt the desperation of the blond’s hands pawing at his shoulders “Oh God, Buck… _fuck_  I’m so close.” He whimpered.

Carefully, Bucky slowed with a long moan, savoring the taste of him, the tangy sharpness of precome on his tongue. He didn’t want to hurt Steve by stopping too suddenly, but he didn’t want Steve to blow his load already either. He wanted to remember this, to not miss a moment. He wanted to memorize Steve falling apart so sweetly under his hands, his mouth. More importantly – and selfishly – Bucky wanted Steve to remember him, he wanted the memory of Bucky working his body to burn for him, make him crazy for it like Steve made Bucky after only a short time.

Bucky was pumping three long fingers into Steve when the blond cried for more, breathy sobs “I’m ready, baby, I’m ready.” The brunet kneeled between his legs, condom on and lubed, and sunk slowly into the tight heat of him, dragging wet kisses along the column of Steve’s neck and jaw before giving in to a moan of his own loudly.

“Fuck, Steve…ungh…you’re so tight.” Bucky panted into Steve’s neck.

“Yeah?” Steve whined, actually whined, high and pitchy like straight out of a porno and Bucky felt his eyes cross at the sound of it, the feel of himself seated deep within the blond, the small twitches of his hole as he tried to adjust to the size of him. Steve lifted both his arms from where they gripped around Bucky’s body and extended them overhead, palms flat on the headboard. Taking initiative, he slowly started to push against it, like he had before as Bucky fingered him open, fucking himself on Bucky’s cock.

Bucky moaned hotly as Steve began to pick up the pace, confident now. Bucky propped himself up on his forearms, eyes drifting down Steve’s chest, flushed and glistening with sweat, down his right abs and to his hard, aching dick that sat, fat and leaking, on his lower abdomen. “ _Fuck_.”

He could feel the long slide, the push and pull of Steve around him, he watched as the blond impaled himself on him, pace quick and steady. Bucky licked up Steve’s neck and kissed his mouth filthy and loud, Steve moaned into it, rocking faster in time with their tongues. Bucky began to roll his hips in time with Steve’s movements, a satisfying sound of skin slapping hard against skin with each thrust of his into Steve’s body as Steve himself bore down onto his cock.

They rocked into each other like that for minutes or hours, fuck maybe  _days_ , Bucky couldn’t tell anymore nor did he care; time bled together and slowed down as all he focused on was the man beneath him, around him. Steve rucked his thighs a little higher around Bucky’s waist, tilting their axis, and linking his ankles at the small of Bucky’s back. “Oh fuck. Buck…I’m close…hah-ah…I think, I think I’m close.”

Steve gasped as Bucky took his left hand and wrapped it around Steve’s dick tightly, smearing the precome that had pooled on Steve’s belly and slicking him up, fucking his fist in time with his thrusts. Steve pulled his hands from the headboard, palming Bucky’s shoulders, resting on the back of his neck, fingers digging in as he gave himself over completely to Bucky’s movements. Bucky moaned as it grounded him to Steve, eyes locking on blue. Steve’s brows were knitted up, mouth dropped open, whimpers, whines and moans escaping his chest with each thrust. “Oh,  _oh, yeah_ …like that,  _fuck_  baby …” Steve’s hole tightened impossibly tighter around Bucky, before fluttering as Steve striped his belly and Bucky’s hand with line after line of come, a loud, filthy moan of the Lord’s and Bucky’s name entwined.   
  
“Jesus…God, Steve you’re so pretty baby, ungh - ah, you’re so pretty when you come.” Bucky gasped dropping himself flush on Steve and taking his clean hand and grabbing Steve’s right thigh tightly as he pumped into him with abandon.

He could hear Steve moan hotly in his ear, encouraging him; “come for me, Buck. Come on baby, come for me I want it…fuck…I want it so bad.”

And he was gone, every muscle tightening and holding him still as a moan ripped from his chest, his cock pumping the condom full inside of Steve, Steve mewled and whimpered, pleased with himself as Bucky all but collapsed on the blond.  He laid there for a long moment, Steve heaving breaths beneath him.  Bucky waited for his breathing to even out before rolling off of Steve and staring dazedly at the ceiling. “Jesus Christ,” Bucky heaved, catching his breath. 

“Yeah,” Steve gasped.

“I mean…wow.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Fuck,” Bucky swore.

“Gimme a minute,” Steve answered cheekily, and Bucky gave an agreeing hum, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. He should probably clean up Steve and himself, it’s the polite thing to do, but damn he was tired.   _In a minute,_  he told himself, for now he would just lie here, listening to Steve breath beside him, shoulder to shoulder.

“You’re gorgeous,” Steve whispered next to him, and Bucky turned to see Steve lying on his side, catching him just as he planted a soft kiss on Bucky’s left shoulder, the trail of fading scars there. 

“Ain’t gotta sweet talk me, Stevie.  You already got in my pants,” Bucky smirked.  Steve looked wrecked, a beautiful mess of matted blond hair plastered to his forehead and curling slightly with sweat. His eyes were back to their usual playful brightness, taking in Bucky’s own features, his mouth wide in a smile and bottom lip between his teeth.

“I mean it. You tell me surprisingly often that you think I’m attractive--”

“Pretty,” Bucky corrected.

“Pretty attractive.”

Bucky snort.

“But just so we’re clear…I like what I see too. Especially right now - in my bed. I’m vain like that,” Steve joked, and Bucky chuckled, draping his left arm around Steve’s shoulders and rolling him in, Steve’s head cradled in the space between his shoulder and chest. 

“I had fun tonight, Stevie. Even before…” He could feel Steve’s face twist against his skin in a smile.

“Back to being Mr. Modest, huh?” Steve chuckled.

“Sex. Even before the sex. I meant what I said earlier…” Bucky looked down at Steve on his chest, taking his left hand and brushing back some of Steve’s wet blond hair and meeting his bright blue eyes.  He made sure to keep his tone light but serious, so Steve knew he was sincere, “I know this evening isn’t even over but I’d love to take you out again soon, if you’ll have me.”

“Yeah, Buck.  I’d like that,” Steve whispered back softly, take his left hand and gently pulling Bucky’s face down for a kiss. “I’d really like that.”

“’Kay,” Bucky kissed him again more deeply.

“Mm…wait,” Steve pulled away, his brows furrowed. “I... _fuck_ , I am flying out tomorrow night…”

“For how long?” Buck asked, dragging lazy fingers across Steve’s left arm up to his shoulder and watching the goosebumps rise on his pale skin.

“Two weeks I think? Maybe three…I can’t remember. We’re flying all over the place for this new promotional thing, I…Buck…” He breathed, “Buck I gotta tell you something. I-I don’t know what you’ll think but…It’s gunna sound crazy but…” Steve was going tense in his arms and Bucky realized this would not do, not after the amazing night they’ve just had. He interrupted him with another kiss, sweet but firm, intentions clear.  He knew what Steve was going to say, so he didn’t need to hear him say it.

“Stop. Don’t tell me now. Tell me tomorrow,” Bucky murmured, lips barely leaving Steve’s before he pressed their lips together tightly again.

“But Bucky…”

“Shh…it can wait. Tomorrow, you can tell me tomorrow,” Bucky insisted and Steve gave in, lips pushing hard against Bucky’s own, hungry again, mouth opening in a rush of breath.

“Tomorrow,” Steve panted, hands wandering low.

“Tomorrow,” Bucky promised, giving himself over to the moment one more time as Steve leaned back, pulling Bucky on top of him again.

After everything that had happened all falling together perfectly tonight, Bucky couldn’t bear to let this evening fall to ruin by worrying about the future, the what-ifs, or the maybes. Tomorrow when Steve tells Bucky for the first time that he’s famous, that he’s an international supermodel with millions of adoring fans ready to pounce on any known suitor, he’ll tell Steve he knows.  It may sound stupid, even to himself (it would be so much easier to just pretend), but their relationship (or whatever this is) has the foundation to be something great. Bucky can feel it in every look, every kiss, and every touch from Steve, everything slotting together for the first time just right. He doesn’t want what this is with Steve to begin with a lie, with secrets - malicious intentions or not.  So for tonight, they’ll pretend. For tonight, it’ll be just Bucky Barnes and Steve, his neighbor, hot beneath his skin and setting him alight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We-heh-hell then...I'll just show myself out.
> 
> Comments, kudos, and any other forms of shameless affection welcome! Come find me on [tumblr](http://captainbeardburn.tumblr.com)!
> 
> Again: story unbeta'd and hastily edited. Any glaring errors are my own. I'm sure you're tired of seeing it but **Please** no concrit just yet! I'm writing this story just for fun to get out of an awful writer's block, so please be gentle. You have my fragile heart in your hands.
> 
> Thank you to everyone who has taken the time to kudos or comment on little ol' me, no lie **you are the best!**


	8. Chapter Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky tells Steve the truth but it doesn't go quite as planned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long. It needed a lot of whipping into shape but frankly I just can't stare at it anymore. 
> 
> Also, no beta and hastily edited so all errors are my own because I was going cross-eyed staring at this chapter. Any glaring inconsistencies or errors please let me know :/
> 
> Enjoy!

Bucky felt weightless, his body was limp and boneless as he felt himself drift awake.  He stretched, his muscles giving a small ache from sleeping so hard, he probably hadn’t moved an inch all night after he and Steve finally fell asleep after round two (and briefly waking up early for round three). Bucky let out a loud groan as he reached high and stretched his body long, inhaling deeply; the room smelled ripe of sweat and sex and _Steve_ , it made Bucky smile to himself as he let his mind drift to last night: his hands on Steve’s skin, palming his slim hips and the unbelievable heat of Steve enveloping his body in his own – the memory made Bucky’s breath catch.

Bucky could feel Steve stirring beside him and he rolled over to see Steve was faced away from him.  Even relaxed and asleep Bucky could make out the outlines of Steve’s strong muscles, follow the ridges of his spine that he’d traced last night with his tongue, the dimples at the base of Steve’s back above the swell of a peach that was Steve’s  _amazing_ ass.  God, even the back of his head was hot.   _What the hell did I do to get here?_  Bucky thought to himself: in Steve’s apartment, in Steve’s bed, tangled in Steve’s sheets –  _Steve, Steve, Steve_.

Just that thought alone sends a mix of unease and heat through Bucky’s body.

Remembering last night and how he acted, all self-assured and confident, made Bucky wince and his capacity for ‘swagger’ fell back to zero.  What Bucky had thought seemed confident last night now made him look cocky, and what was thought to be cool now seemed arrogant.  Bucky wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do now that he felt safely tucked back into his own skin. The bravado from last night was officially gone with the glamour of the previous night and was now faded to the dull shine that was always Bucky Barnes.

Bucky never felt so sure he was where he was supposed to be and yet so completely out of place in his life. The reminder that he was falling surprisingly fast with Steve felt like a sharp blow and the urge to run made the bottoms of his feet itch.

He was pulled out of his minor internal crisis by the sound of Steve sighing and Bucky couldn’t help himself, rolling toward Steve as if immediately drawn to him. His left hand traced the hard muscles of Steve’s back causing the blond to wiggle at the touch.  Bucky leaned in and started tracing the paths of his fingers with his lips, kissing a trail feather soft that finally got Steve squirming, twisting around onto his back to look at him.  “Mornin’,” Bucky drawled, resting his left hand on Steve’s stomach. 

“Morning,” Steve hummed and rubbed the sleep from his eyes with a dopey smile and Bucky couldn’t resist, he wrapped his arm around the blond and pulled him close, his body pliant and skin warm and soft under Bucky’s hands.  “You’re still here…”

“Uh…yeah – well…” Bucky stuttered, his heart dropping to his feet as he stiffened in Steve’s arms with doubt. He immediately dug through his lust colored memories of last night;  _what about last night? Hadn’t Steve’s actions and his words all pointed to Steve wanting him to stay? So why –_

“I’m glad,” Steve whispered into Bucky’s skin.  Bucky felt a wave of relief wash over him and now all he wanted to do now was kiss him, but he was wholly aware that his morning breath was probably at full force, so instead he settled in nuzzling against Steve’s neck as the blond gave a low purr. “Keep raring me up like this Buck and I’ll never letcha leave.”

“That’s the idea…” Bucky chuckled, recovering with every touch from Steve’s hands. Bucky heard his phone chirp from the foot of the bed where his pants had been tossed and groaned.  Steve gave a breathless laugh but Bucky knew he had to answer it, it was Monday after all and he had no idea what time it was.  Fortunately, he was practically his own boss, he didn’t have to go in right at eight if he didn’t want to (and the feeling of Steve’s hands drifting lower really made Bucky not want to).  “Gimme a minute,” Bucky sighed, rolling out of bed and grabbing his jeans to look at his phone.

Bucky pulled up his texts.  He only had two texts from Nat and Clint (he was weirdly proud of his friends’ self-restraint for only texting him  _twice)_ and one from Bruce _:_

 

 

> _Natasha 08:55 PM: This is your obligatory “do I need to fake an emergency” message. To accept this message, please text 1 now._
> 
> _Clint 09:11 PM: no message. NICE. good luck man. remember: wrap it up. ;)_
> 
> _Bruce 07:02 AM: No presentation today. See, I’m always right._

 

Bucky sent Bruce a quick thank you – as well as a heads up he wasn’t coming into work until after lunch, personal time – and was about to text Clint when he heard Steve clearing his throat.  Bucky turned around to see Steve still lying in bed, eyes on the brunet, eyebrow cocked.

“This is the sort of morning view a guy could really get used to.” Bucky frowned before realizing he was standing in Steve’s room still completely naked. 

Bucky bit his lip and walked back towards Steve’s bed waving his phone. “Sorry, work stuff,” Bucky explained shyly as he pulled on his boxers from last night, then his jeans.  Steve watched him carefully before slipping out of bed himself, pulling on his own underwear.  Bucky was struck by how comfortable and surprisingly domestic this all felt between him and Steve, and this mixed surge of pleasure and hesitancy in his chest has returned full force; pleasure in the fact that he could see this being a ‘regular thing’ easily, and hesitancy at the fact at how easily this could become a ‘regular thing’ after one night. Just one night of amazing conversation and amazing sex ( _fuck yeah!_ ) and Bucky found himself struggling on either side of the line of making camp in Steve’s place or packing bags to Russia to protect his heart. 

He’s getting too attached and he knows -- he knows -- it’s only a matter of time before Steve recognizes that a guy like  _Steve_  couldn’t settle for a guy like  _Bucky_. 

Seeing Steve stand there in front of him, blond hair messy from sleep, eyes bright, and smile sunny but timid was like a painful confirmation that Steve was a god amongst men (or a fucking model, whatever), and yet he was standing there looking  _at Bucky_  with a look of hesitancy and something else a little funny, a little far gone and unreadable.

“You ok?” Steve asked, his voice tentative and he could no doubt feel the waves of Bucky’s internal struggle.

“Yeah,” Bucky answered quickly, perhaps a little too quickly, since Steve furrowed his brows as he slipped past Bucky to go to the kitchen and start the coffee maker.  A silence fell between them that wasn’t all that uncomfortable but Bucky found it strangling all the same.  “I had fun last night.”

Bucky couldn’t see Steve’s face, but he could hear his smile when he hummed and said “yeah, me too.”

Bucky walked up to the counter and leaned against the island between himself and Steve, wracking his brain for something to say to fill the silence even though Steve seemed content with the quiet between them. “When do you fly out?”

Steve stiffened a hair, but recovered quickly. “Tonight, I think five or so…I don’t know, my manager will call me to remind me I’m sure, if he hasn’t emailed me already,” Steve chuckles.

Bucky’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline, “manager?”  A single hum was the only answer Bucky got before Steve threw two pieces of bread into the toaster.

“You qualified to handle that piece of machinery or should I get the fire extinguisher prepped?” Bucky teased, and Steve finally glanced over his shoulder to toss Bucky a sarcastic laugh with nothing short of a genuine grin on his face.

“Ha-ha,” He said flatly. “Laugh it up, but if this bread catches fire you’re fucked, my extinguisher’s already empty.”

“No shit?” Bucky asked in disbelief, he should probably actually be concerned, but the smile Steve is giving him settles something in his chest.  Steve pulls out a jar of jam and butter from the fridge and sets it in front of Bucky, along with a butter knife and eventually his toast as he pops another set of bread into the toaster.  While he waits, Steve leans on his forearms onto the island across from Bucky.

“Sorry,” Steve said sheepishly, his head ducking low as his cheeks flush. “I would make you a proper breakfast but uh…I’m pretty sure even eggs are outta my specialty,” Steve chuckled. Bucky barks a laugh and something that is probably a sound of affirmation as he spreads the butter and jam on one piece of toast and slides the plate with the second piece to Steve for him to eat.

Bucky’s not sure exactly how or why it happened, or why it happened then, but watching Steve straighten his spine and slowly prepare his own toast crashed into Bucky like a kick to the chest, he buzzed with anxiety and self-doubt and –

All the brief flits of thoughts and feelings of domesticity, the almost  _soothing_ nature of it all merging together, overwhelmed him;

 _It’s too easy_.  Being with Steve like this is too easy…and it’s too soon and  _too normal and feels too right and he shouldn’t_ **be**  here,  _he doesn’t_ **fit** _–_

Bucky sets down his toast and grips the counter. He’s getting too attached and he reminds himself he’s not going to be enough because it’s only a matter of time.

_A guy like Steve couldn’t settle for a guy like Bucky._

“Hey, Bucky…Buck…you ok?” Steve asked, warm blue eyes swimming with concern.

“I think I should go,” Bucky said with a curt nod.  He turned on his heel and walked to Steve’s bedroom, scooping up with shirt and his wallet and keys and phone.

“What?” Steve called after him, close behind. “Bucky...Buck what’s wrong? Why’re you – Was it the toast? I didn’t think I could fuck up bread—”

“No Steve, it wasn’t the toast.” Bucky interrupted, his face pained at the clashing expressions on Steve’s face: confusion, worry, and frustration.

“Then why the rush?” Steve asked again, brows pinched high and eyes wide.

“I just…you and me, this…I mean with you and what you do…I just don’t think it’s…I can’t…” Bucky stumbled over his words, unable to form a sentence and Steve just tilts his head in expectation.

“What? What about me—“

“You! This!” Bucky almost shouts in frustration, his hand waving up and down Steve’s body.  “How’s a guy like me supposed to believe that I can get a guy like you…”

Steve crossed his arms across his impossibly broad (and still bare) chest. “A guy like me?”

“Oh come on, Stevie, don’t play dumb. It’s not a good look for you.” Bucky snarled, his patience fraying.

“I don’t understa—“

“How about how you’re a model? Huh? How about the fact that you’ve probably got an ad in every magazine on the rack; or how about the fact that you’re plastered on the monstrosity of a billboard outside my work!” Bucky erupted – and it’s out there, it’s done.  Steve’s staring at him still wide eyed and Bucky’s panting now, but he couldn’t stop himself, his anxiety had bubbled over and spilled toxic into his conscience and he couldn’t contain it anymore.  He knows he doesn’t have the right to shout like this at Steve and in some distant corner of his brain he knows he’s in the wrong. He could’ve kept his word and told Steve he knew in a calm manner, preferably after Steve had told him like he’d meant to last night.

“You knew?” Steve asked, incredulous and hurt.

“You’re not exactly subtle about it, Steve.”

“Why didn’t you say something?” Steve asked, hands dropping limp at his sides.  Bucky rubbed at his forehead and then ran his hands through his hair.  He didn’t want to have this conversation anymore, but now he had to, Steve deserved that much and if he didn’t explain, well…then he’d _really_  look like a jerk, more than he already does.

Bucky faltered, “I don’t…I don’t know. I—“

“How long?”

“What?” Bucky asked, bile rising in his throat.

“How long have you known?” Steve asked sharply.

“I don’t know…a couple weeks?”

“ _Weeks?_ ” Steve repeated, his eyes bulging from his head.  “You knew for  _weeks_  and you didn’t think the best thing to do was tell me while I practically lied to you?”

“But that’s just it – you didn’t lie, Steve…you were just vague.” Bucky answered meekly in Steve’s defense.

Steve let out a frustrated groan and began to pace, “I thought that…I just…” His hands go up into his hair before whipping around back to Bucky, eyes narrowed but pleading and hurt. “What was this to you?” He asks desperately, “a game? Was this some scheme to get into some model’s pants and then run off? You gunna post something on  _twitter_  or something.” 

Steve is practically snarling, and Bucky bristled, but the accusation was exactly what Bucky needed to come back to himself. He shook his head insistently. “No, no of course not! Steve, I really…I really like you.  I thought that’s what you wanted, to keep things simple…but I just, I panicked and I wanted to be honest because I really like you and –“

“Why did you let me keep making a fool of myself?! God, you kept asking and asking about my job I just…” Steve squeezed his eyes tight, bringing a fist to his forehead and he grit his teeth.

Bucky flung his hands up in the air in exasperation. “What did you want me to do, Steve? Tell me what I should have done? Because it sounds like to me you would’ve preferred I kept my mouth shut! Is that what I should’ve done?!”

“ _Christ_ …no!” Steve sighed, resting his hands on his hips.  The simple movement caught Bucky’s eyes and he took in the blond.  Steve was standing there in his bedroom doorway with chest and neck flushed in anger.  Bucky realized how stupid this seemed to be having this fight now while Steve was still in his underwear.  God he didn’t even give Steve the chance to get dressed before he fucked everything up. Steve didn’t seem to care, he shook his head, hanging it low and kicked his bare feet at the hardwood.   When he finally spoke, it was so soft Bucky could barely hear him over the sound of the A/C unit whirring behind him.

“I guess…I guess I just feel stupid…I didn’t try to trick you either, in case you…I just…I thought that maybe I could–“ and Steve cut himself off, standing with his head in his own thoughts where Bucky couldn’t listen. 

_‘I just feel stupid.’_

Bucky squeezed his eyes shut in frustration.  He wanted to reach out a hand of comfort.  He wanted to offer words of kindness to Steve, maybe not an apology for telling him the truth, but an apology for erupting about it like he did and for not being forthright with it in the first place.  Bucky wanted to assure Steve he didn’t think he was stupid, that some part of him understood why he did what he did, but the words were heavy in his throat.  Instead he swallowed lamely, eyes dropping to look at Steve’s feet as he let the silence fester between them.

“I think you’re right, I think it’s time for you to go.” Steve murmured, his eyes soft as they met Bucky’s tentatively.  Bucky’s face twisted because even though this is what he wanted before, now this is exactly what he didn’t want.  He didn’t want to leave Steve here, not when he was hurting and it was all Bucky’s fault. He opened his mouth to say as much but the words died on the tip of his tongue. 

Angry at his inability to speak or even explain, Bucky brushed past Steve to the living room, grabbing his shoes and shoving his feet in.   Steve leans, still in the bedroom doorway, back against the frame and head hanging low, looking like the very definition of kicked puppy. 

Within a few strides Bucky had his hand on Steve’s front door.  He turned back, and Steve was still leaning, eyes focused down.  He hesitated. “Steve, I know…I don’t…” His mind scrambled but the panic of knowing everything had started to crumble choked his words.  Bucky gave a soft laugh, and Steve finally raised his head, his brows furrowed and his eyes daggered. 

“I can’t fucking speak!” Bucky chuckled, raising his arms wide in disbelief.  Steve keeps his eyes narrow, confusion apparent.  Bucky felt himself grow a little hysterical and bit his lip, the pressure sinking into it - and the pain – was a little grounding.

“I know I told you already, but I think you really need to hear it from me again, and I hope you are really listening when I say this: you weren’t some prize to me.” Bucky said, eyes wide and pleading.  He paused a moment, to let that sink in.  He watched Steve’s frown deepen and finds himself letting the floodgates open, words beginning to pour out as desperation begins to seep under his skin. 

“I…I didn’t start talking to you with some grand intention of getting into your pants. Fuck, I didn’t even  _know_  who you were the first few weeks we started flirting or talking or whatever happened. I didn’t go into this whole thing trying to bed some supermodel, ok? Because I didn’t even know you were one.” Bucky sighed in relief as the words became tangible.

“You remember, what was it, two weeks ago? When I introduced you to my friends Clint and Nat and they were all giggly and shit?   _That_  was when I learned who you were.  And when I found out, I panicked, because I  _liked_  you Steve, like…I  _really liked_ you. Then to find out you’re a fucking Marvel Model? God, I already felt like I was outta my depth with you and then all of a sudden I was  _drownin’_.  I couldn’t believe it, I couldn’t…” Bucky laughed to himself, “I even googled you.” He admitted in disbelief.  He couldn’t dare himself to look at Steve, to see his face in case it made him stop; not now, not when he was finally letting it out.

“I found out who you were and I googled you, just to make sure. And  _fuck_ , there you were – all beautiful and perfect, just like you always are, except then I got to see you in the jungle or on the beach, in the desert, on a boat, on red carpets and I…I just freaked.  What was I supposed to do, huh?” Bucky frowned at his feet, he leaned against Steve’s door, unable to trust his legs to hold his weight anymore. “I had a crush but I’m just a normal guy; I work nine-to-five, I live in Brooklyn, and Steve-fucking-Rogers is my neighbor and I  _liked him.”_ Bucky laughed darkly, his eyes rolling to the ceiling.  “Finding that out only made it more obvious that I stood  _no chance_ in landing a guy like you; at least I never woulda thought I did before…” He paused in disbelief as memories flashing behind his eyes of their brief meetings,  _dates before the date_.

“So when you…when I started to think maybe this went both ways - that maybe you liked me too - I…tried to work up the courage to tell you that I knew, but every time I just…choked. I don’t know why, but I thought maybe you wanted me to not know, that you would rather I didn’t, except I couldn’t change that, I couldn’t stop knowing it.  So I tried to get you to tell me, I fished for it - I did, I won’t lie. But when I realized you weren’t going to tell me I just…I didn’t want to disappoint you.  I was convinced you wanted it that way.

“Then I thought maybe the reason was because you didn’t like me as much as I liked you…” Bucky chewed at his lip, he could feel Steve’s eyes on him but he couldn’t meet them, “and that me not knowing was just easier for you in the long run.”

A sharp intake of breath forced Bucky to look at Steve whose eyes were honest and desperate, lips parted and brows pinched high as if listening to Bucky pained him, like he didn’t want to listen but he couldn’t not.  At Bucky’s words Steve’s eyes grew wider, surprised at Bucky’s sincerity and admission. It spurred Bucky on, and he continued, “It wasn’t a game to me, I wasn’t trying to trick you into sleeping with me.  The reason I didn’t tell you was because I thought that that was what you wanted…I’m sorry. I was wrong.  I can’t take it back though, and I’m not sorry that I told you now.  This was something special for me because it was  _you_ , Steve.  I know you’re mad at me, or hurt, or frustrated, or…most likely all of the above.” Bucky croaked out a laugh, his throat dry from speaking. “But if you decide that you want to keep trying, if you decide you wanna give this a shot, you know where to find me. My lease ain’t up for another eight months so I’m sorry, but I can’t really go anywhere.”

Bucky hesitated a moment and he wasn’t sure why, and Steve didn’t say anything for a long time, neither of them did.

“You should go.”  Steve said finally, soft still and a little shaken, but his tone as firm as before.

Bucky met Steve’s eyes again, and Steve dropped his immediately; an answer that was like a shot in Bucky’s gut.  Bucky nodded with a swallow, and let himself out. He didn’t expect Steve to suddenly be okay with everything, for him to fling his arms around Bucky and accept his apology.  Maybe a romantic part of him did, but the practical part of Bucky knew better than that, and that practical side kicked himself for having even the smallest of hope in the first place.

Bucky let himself into his apartment and locked the door, leaning against the wood and letting himself drop to the floor.  Worrying at his lip, Bucky finally allowed himself to feel the disappointment and resentment he’d been ignoring while at Steve’s, surprising himself with its intensity as it crawled up his chest and squeezed his lungs breathless.  How could he be so upset after one date? How could he have allowed himself to get so attached after only knowing Steve for such a short time?

The answer was surprisingly simple; he really, really liked Steve.

He laughed to himself numbly.  Bucky knew this was a possibility, and for a moment he felt like maybe he really had made the wrong choice.  Maybe he should’ve just played dumb, act like it was all something new when Steve eventually told him, but Natasha's words rose to the forefront of his mind and she was right: he didn’t want a relationship built on deceit.  Steve deserved that much…especially since Bucky could only offer so little in return.

As much as Bucky wanted to wallow in his own misery, he knew he was in the right (if there even was a right and wrong).  His intentions were good, and that was what was most important.  He put it all out there, lined it all up for Steve and now the ball was in his court.  This meant that all Bucky could do now was wait, and hope that when the time comes that Steve makes up his mind, he'll find himself outside of Bucky’s door and not someone else’s.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dun-Dun-DUUUUUNNNNN.
> 
> If this chapter left you feeling down, please feel free to check out a very small Stucky one-shot I wrote about "The Penis Game," it was written in good fun, you can find it [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4199244).
> 
> This is supposed to be a fluffy and happy story but this sort of tumbled into it... With the way the story is plotted, Bucky has to come to terms with his insecurities and trust Steve, but it takes a little while and a lot of pushing and pulling from both boys. It WILL have a happy ending, because I am a sucker for happy endings ;)
> 
> Oh! As always you can come find me on [tumblr](http://captainbeardburn.tumblr.com)! 
> 
> Thanks for reading: I love talking to you in the comments and of course, kudos is always appreciated. :)


	9. Chapter Nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky deals with the aftermath while Steve is away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Usual warnings apply: un-beta'd and hastily edited. Any glaring warnings let me know. 
> 
> Thanks for being patient with me!

Bucky sat on the floor with his head in his hands for a long time replaying the morning: what he and Steve had said, what they  _should’ve_  said.  He sat long enough that he heard Steve’s door open and the passing sound of footsteps and rolling luggage, then the heavy footfalls descending the stairs.  It was enough to bring him out of his own misery.

First, Bucky text Natasha saying he needed to talk.  Next, he text Bruce and explained he wasn’t feel well and wouldn’t be in.  Then, he fell into the only coping routine Bucky’s mother ever actually encouraged: he cleaned. 

After setting his iPod in the dock and selecting his “Old Bucky Classics” playlist, he started in the kitchen. As always, it started with something simple, like unloading the dishwasher before realizing his cupboards had no order, so  _naturally_  the next step was to empty them out completely and restack each dish in a proper place.  Next, he loaded the dishwasher (since he’d been distracted) and then scrubbed the counters with water, then Lysol.  Next, he emptied the fridge, throwing out weeks old left overs and scrubbing down the shelves.  After that, the music and the rhythm of his work blurred, and he wasn’t quite sure how he ended up on his hands and knees in the bathroom, scrubbing the grout of the tub by hand, but that’s where he was when Natasha found him.

“Oh boy.” She breathed.  “Clint, I’ll call you back…this doesn’t look good.”

“But the apartment looks good right? I didn’t realize what a sty it was.” Bucky interrupted, still scrubbing furiously at a particularly stubborn corner with a toothbrush.

“How long have you been cleaning?” Natasha asked worriedly as she pocketed her phone.

Bucky sat back on his haunches. “Uh…what time is it?”

“Six.”

“Wow,  _really_?” Bucky asked, unable to hide his surprise.

Natasha sighed, “I should’ve known when I walked in to Blink-182, that never means anything good.”

Bucky rolled his eyes and stood up, his knees screaming at him from prolonged pressure. “I guess I got caught up in it.”

Natasha looked at him worriedly, then waved her hand. “Come on, Romeo, I brought wings.  Let’s eat and talk.”

 

* * *

 

 

Natasha dutifully listened as Bucky purged everything: the whole date, the sex (probably too explicitly, though Natasha didn’t look at all bothered), the morning after; what happened, what was said, how Steve was gone now and Bucky had no way to get in contact with him.  She never interrupted or added anything, just nodded and listened patiently until Bucky finally drew in a deep breath as he finished.

“Do you think you did the wrong thing?” Natasha asked, and Bucky shook his head and shrugged.

“I don’t know, Nat. I don’t know what I was expecting I just…it came out and I couldn’t stop myself.”

“Do you regret telling him?”

“Kinda?” Bucky winced, knowing that was probably the wrong answer.

“Why?” She asked, much to Bucky’s frustration.

“Because he kicked me out? Because I just had a great night with a great guy and I fucked it up by opening up my trap.” Bucky hissed impatiently.

“Stop. You didn’t fuck anything up by being honest, it was already fucked up.” Natasha said coldly.  Bucky narrowed his eyes. “You guys were both hiding things, and of course I see where you are coming from, of course I know why you didn’t say anything sooner, I do.  Steve? I don’t know…I don’t have the privilege to hang with the rich and famous,” Natasha teased lightly, “so I don’t know what was going on in his head but…it sounds like you two need to work on your communication.”

“No, duh.” Bucky flat out stared at her and Natasha bit back a smirk.  Bucky milked the silence for a moment, Natasha hinting for Bucky to continue while Bucky very much did not want to.  He ran a hand through his hair and Natasha clucked at how it flopped on his head. “I’m so confused, Nat.  I feel like…like I’m talking about this like it’s already a relationship, we went on one date! I think I’m taking it too fast, maybe I freaked him out with what I said or…or maybe I sounded too serious.  He’s probably got a ton of fans who clamber over him and god…I must’ve sounded like a real _stan_.” Bucky croaked in embarrassment as he dropped his head in his hands.  What was he thinking getting wrapped up in the idea that he could actually date Captain America? Steve was gorgeous, richly so, and his job had him rubbing elbows (and probably more...oh God) with the most beautiful people in the world.  Not only was he beautiful, he was smart, funny, and sarcastic and kind – the total package – Bucky couldn’t compete with that.

“Ok, really? You need to stop.” Natasha practically snapped. Bucky lifted his head and saw Natasha scowling at him. “James you need to stop with this whole ‘Steve is a supermodel’ thing, he’s just a regular guy you realize this right? You know what regular guys do right? They have egos and feelings and make mistakes.  So what if he’s famous? Does he act like that with you? All pretentious and arrogant and self-obsessed? No, right? Because he’s a regular guy just like you.

So please, please Bucky, stop putting yourself down while you put Steve on that pedestal, stop letting yourself get stuck in that toxic mind-trap that you aren’t good enough.  Let Steve decide that: it’s his choice, and given how he let you stick your dick in his ass I think he thinks you’re ok.” Natasha finished, her temper still a little flared but waning as Bucky gave her a tired smile and small laugh.  She was right, of course she was right.  He wouldn’t say that of course, she was insufferable most times as it is, so instead he just looked at her long enough to unnerve her.

“What?” 

“You called me Bucky.”

“I did not.” Natasha said brusquely. 

“You did, you know you did, and you never call me Bucky unless you’re feeling protective.” Bucky explained, dopey smile on his face. “I bet you call me Bucky in your head.”

“Do not.” Natasha said, but she couldn’t hide the small smile creeping on her face.

“Mhm.” Bucky extended his hand out and rested it on her wrist, “thanks, Nat. Really…”

Natasha held up a hand;  _stop_.  “This is the last thing I’m going to say, and then we’re going to go into your living room, sit on your freshly vacuumed couch, and binge watch Netflix, deal?” Bucky nodded. “From what I’ve heard about you and Steve, I think you two really have something worth trying out. It’ll be hard, obviously, but I think it’ll be worth it.”

“Why?” Bucky frowned, “What makes you think that?”

Natasha shrugged, “one of my feelings, and we know how accurate those are.”

Deadly. Deadly accurate.

Bucky bit his lip and slumped into his chair, “I don’t even have a way to get in contact with him.”

“So? Take this time to focus on your work or, I don’t know, your crippling self-esteem issues.  Seriously Barnes have you ever looked in a mirror? You’re fine, well, except the hair…but Steve’s not taking as big of a hit as you think by hit by slumming it with you, trust me. And if you don’t trust me, trust all of those times Clint ‘no-homo’d’ his love for you.” Bucky laughed and ran his hands through his hair nervously.

“Steve seems like the soul searching type, I’m sure he’s probably figuring himself out, so you should do the same, ok?” Natasha asked and Bucky just nodded. 

“Thanks, Nat.”

“You can thank me by rubbing my feet. Now shut up about your feelings and let’s go watch some awful D-list movies.”

 

* * *

 

 

Once again for what seems like the umpteenth time in his life, Bucky takes Natasha’s advice and throws himself into his work – despite the lusty glare from the billboard outside his window.

Bucky ends up presenting his prototype to Tony Stark on Wednesday.  Thankfully, he only shows disinterest, which is better than actively paying attention because, as anyone who works with the man knows, if you catch Tony Starks attention for long it’s either because you’re: A) a tall, leggy model or, more likely in Bucky’s case, B) because he’s going to rip your design a new one.  Bucky’s barely back to his office when Banner catches him and tells him Stark  _loved_  it and is fast-tracking Bucky’s project and funding.

Bucky squeals like a small child and dances in his office for a good thirty seconds before he composes himself and gets back to work.

Still, with the success of his project and the promise of putting his work out there to really help some people, Bucky can’t quite stop his mind from wandering back to Steve.

 

* * *

 

“So is that what he looks like when he’s giving it to ya?” Clint asked nonchalantly and nods to Cap’s billboard.  Bucky floundered and his screwdriver nicked the screw and shot it across the office and under a shelf on the other side of the room. 

“Clint.” Natasha reproached. 

“What?! You’ve been thinking it I know you have.” 

“I also told you not to bring up Steve.” Natasha hissed. 

“I’m fine, guys, really. It was one night and it’s been over a week. I can talk about it.” Bucky sighed as he glanced over his shoulder.  Despite what he’d said, looking at Steve’s billboard floods his memories of big hands on his hips and hot breaths in his ear. Bucky feels the tips of his ears go pink.  The Steve on the billboard is cheeky and daring, more like how Steve had been when he kissed him at his door.  The Steve that he took apart with his hands and his tongue looked far more wrecked and desperate and nothing like the man on the sign. 

Bucky smiled down to his chest and Clint whistled excitedly. “ _OOO_ , buddy. I still can’t believe you tapped that, or were you tapped? Do I want to know? Babe, do I want to know?” 

“Oh you want to know, but I’ll tell you later.” Natasha answered flirtatiously and Bucky groaned. 

“I’m  _right_  here, guys. Shouldn't you guys be working or something?” Bucky groaned, but it didn’t matter, they had no shame.

  
“What about that?” Clint asked, ignoring Bucky's plight and pointing at Steve’s crotch unashamedly. “Is  _that_  photoshopped?” 

“Are you…are you  _sure_  you’re straight? Bisexuality is a thing, you know.” Bucky said in disbelief, and Clint just shrugged. 

“Gotta know my competition for my man’s affections. C’mon man, I got Natasha what do you think?” 

“I think many men who believed they were 100% gay would waver for Natasha.” Bucky said and Natasha cackled. 

“Good answer, James.” 

“Is it photoshopped? I gotta know man, that bulge is poking my eye out over here.” 

“Nope.” Bucky answered, popping the ‘p’ devilishly.

 

* * *

 

Bucky makes the mistake of stumbling onto one of those celebrity gossip sites. It was an accident, really.  He and Clint had been talking about some new movie coming out and Bucky googled it to watch the trailer, and then he ended up seeing a headline he couldn’t ignore.  On the right hand side of the site, a list of “trending topics” Steve’s name stood out;

 

> STEVE ROGERS: CAPTAIN AMERICA LINKED TO VS ANGEL SHARON CARTER? CHECK OUT ROGERS’ STEAMY INSTAGRAM PHOTO BELOW.

It’s a picture of Steve and some leggy blonde sunbathing side-by-side. Nothing incriminating really, it could’ve been two friends just lounging in the sun, but the implication was there and it burned Bucky’s insides, charring the hope Bucky hadn’t even realized he still had.

 

* * *

 

Bucky unsubscribed from Steve’s Google alerts a week after the blonde model story hit the news and after more ‘sightings’ of the couple out at a ‘romantic rendez-vous for two’ or the pap shots of the two leaving a movie together. He never really followed it before, but the constant reminder, though self-inflicted, was too much.  Still, whether true or not the idea had been ingrained in Bucky’s mind and he convinced himself it was for the better that Steve was moving on. Plus, it’s not like that he had a lot to move on  _from._ Maybe Bucky was just being melodramatic, maybe he was over-romanticizing it all. 

He reminds himself it would’ve only been a matter of time before Steve left Bucky for greener pastures anyway.

Bucky unfollowed Steve from twitter shortly after.  He doubts Steve will even notice with his over two million followers (it’s not like he even knew Bucky followed him in the first place) but he feels a little closure from it anyhow. 

Still, Steve is never too far from his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *gently guides you to the next chapter*


	10. Chapter Ten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve comes home and the boys talk about their feelings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters in one day because I am super, super sorry about the delay.
> 
>  **EDIT UPDATE 8/1/15:** Thank you to everyone who read this little fic form the beginning, it is my first finished chaptered fic (even if it feels a bit like cheating) and the reception it has gotten is unbelievable. I feel like I've gotten over a major hurdle in my writer's block and I hope I can write more stories for you all to enjoy! So thank you, thank you for your support!
> 
> _I explain my decision to end the fic at this chapter in the End Notes; you may want to subscribe to the series if you want updates._

Turns out Steve wasn’t too far away period. 

Bucky wakes with a groan at the sound of knocking on his front door.  He’d somehow managed to fall asleep watching AFV re-runs on the couch again.  He glances at his phone, it’s after midnight, and switches off the television. 

“Coming! God, hold your horses - If you’re gunna bang on my door after midnight you can have the common courtesy to wait for me to put pants on!” Bucky yelled.  It had to be either Natasha or Clint, no one else would be rude enough to come by unannounced after midnight.  Fortunately the knocking stopped, but as Bucky walked to the door he could feel the impatience radiating from the other side.

“I swear to God Clint if you’re trying to pawn off another stray dog on me I will –“ Bucky flung the door open to reveal a familiar mop of blond hair, but it definitely wasn’t Clint. 

“Steve?” 

Steve’s head was hanging low, his arms wide open, palms resting on either side of the door frame as he leaned forward almost as if caging Bucky inside his own doorway.  He lifted his head at the sound of Bucky’s voice, and his eyes were bleary and dull, not at all the usual bright playfulness Bucky was accustomed to, but it also wasn’t the hurt and angry cold he’d last seen weeks ago. He looked tired. 

“Hey, Buck.” Steve said, a hesitant and shy smile on his face. 

“Hey, Steve. Uh…you’re back.” Bucky said dumbly and a bit cautious, leaning against his door.  

“Yeah. Um…sorry it’s so late I literally, I mean, I just got in.” Steve said, and Bucky can’t help but note the luggage sitting next to Steve.  He hadn’t even dropped his things off.  “I just, I really wanted to see you.” Steve added, chewing at his lip.  Bucky’s eyes jump back from Steve’s lips to his eyes in surprise. 

“Oh…?” Was all Bucky could say.

“Yeah…” 

“Ok.” 

Steve, having been given permission to look, straightened, and dropped his hands to his sides to stand tall. “You look good.” 

“You look like shit.” Bucky countered, immediately wincing at his own tone.  He’d aimed for playful but it just came out as mean.  Steve gave a small huff of sound that Bucky imagined was meant to be laughter. 

“I’ve pretty much been dreading coming home.” Steve said honestly.  _Why?_  Bucky wanted to ask, but instead he silently leaned against the doorframe and nodded, he understood in a sense because he was dreading Steve coming home too. 

“I think we should talk.” Steve said solemnly. 

_“Now?”_

“Is there a better time?” Steve asked sharply. _Better than the middle of the night? Probably_ , Bucky thought, though he couldn’t imagine getting much sleep now. Bucky took a step back, letting Steve into the threshold of his home and Steve thanked him tiredly. “It’s been a long couple weeks…”

“Yeah, how was your trip?” Bucky asked coolly.  It was all wrong the way he and Steve were acting.  It struck Bucky how he doesn’t really know Steve that well, that they’re playing this polite game of conversation because both are too mannerly to jump into what is bothering them right away and acknowledge the elephant in the room. 

“Busy.” Steve answered with a huff of a sigh. “And now I’m jet-lagged. Plus, prancing around on beaches sounds appealing until you’ve got sand so far up your ass you’re shitting marbles.” 

Bucky tried to bite back a laugh but it ended up turning into a snort, and Steve immediately looked at him with a hesitant satisfaction. When Steve, almost reluctantly, met his eyes, it sparked something not unlike hope in his stomach. “Let me get you a beer.” 

Steve followed Bucky to the kitchen and accepted one of Bucky’s hard ciders with a look of playful delight. “Shaddup, I like the fruity stuff when I’m sad.” Bucky insisted, calculating the misstep one second too late as he saw Steve drops his eyes to the floor, he quickly added that he usually prefers a dark lager any other day – “So no revoking my man card.” 

Steve puts his hands up in surrender and gives Bucky a sarcastic smirk. “Wouldn’t dream of it, these are good too.” But he’s biting at his lips and shifting on his feet and Bucky knows he shouldn't have expected his comment to blow over so easy.

Bucky walked to the living room and plopped onto his couch, Steve settling in beside him in silence and leaving enough space between them for a small village to set up camp. It’s unbelievably awkward, and when Bucky glances over at Steve and he finds Steve eyeing him cautiously back that's when he loses his cool. 

“Stop. Stop with the kicked puppy thing ok? I am not going to be able to have this conversation with you if you’re looking at me like you weren’t the one who kicked me out when I tried to talk before.” Bucky snapped, shocking himself but apparently not Steve, who just clenched his jaw and nodded.  The way Steve was acting, approaching Bucky with kid gloves, it seemed almost patronizing to Bucky and that crawled under his skin the wrong way. 

“I get it. I just needed some time.” Steve explained, his tone open and earnest in a way that immediately calms the bubbling anger in Bucky’s chest. “I was upset, like I said…I felt really stupid and I just, I couldn’t think with you standing there.” Then Steve seemed to surprise himself with a chuckle when he added, “I couldn’t even think with you next door.” 

Bucky nodded, understanding.  He couldn’t think either, it wasn’t until he heard Steve leave that the fog seemed to finally lift and he could do something.  Granted, it ended up with several hours of cleaning, but it was productive nonetheless. "Well you coulda said that, or maybe said anything at all instead of leaving me hanging for the past three weeks." Bucky said dryly. 

Steve winced and shook his head. “You're right...I shouldn’t have just kicked you out without giving you, I don't know...something, and for that I’m sorry. I was Embarrassed and frustrated and…and I wanted to say I get it, I get why you didn’t mention it. I do. I just…can I be honest?” 

“God, I wish you would.” Bucky said, and Steve smiled sadly. 

“I liked having you to myself.  You and our…meetings—?“ 

“You called them dates before.” Bucky chimed with a smirk. 

“Ok,  _dates_ , they were just mine.  I just got out of a relationship that, though we did a pretty good job, it still wasn’t exactly private. And I liked having that with you. It was easier to have when you didn’t know what I did or recognize me and I seized the moment.” Steve finished sadly. “Then of course, it turns out you did know and I was just being stupid—“

“Stop, stop. Don’t beat yourself up, it was my choice not to tell you I knew...I shoulda said something sooner.” Bucky said, and Steve dropped his eyes to the floor. "I meant to tell you that morning, because I knew you were going to tell me, at least I was pretty sure...but I got stuck in my head and it just all tumbled out into a big mess. I promise I'm not usually this sloppy." Bucky explained.  Steve smiled at him, that same sad smile that Bucky couldn't let linger.   

The smile got him thinking and “also, do me a favor and stop calling yourself stupid, alright?  You’re not. You forget I googled you; stupid is not a word I’d use to describe you.” Bucky said, taking his left arm and back handing Steve's shoulder softly. 

That seemed to get a real, though hesitant, smile out of Steve. “Yeah, but I’m not one of the lead engineers working at Stark Industries either.  You’re smart.” 

Bucky rolled his eyes. “It doesn’t have to be one or the other Steve, we can both be smart. Besides, I’m plenty dumb about a lot of stuff, like politics—“ And that got some reaction out of Steve as he playfully dropped his jaw as if appalled. 

“Bucky, it is  _your_  responsibility as a citizen to be informed about what’s going on in the world.  Do you vote?” Steve asked, his tone teasing.

“I close my eyes and color in the closest square.” 

Steve squawked.   

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding.” Bucky laughed, and the last bit of angry tension left him. “So where does that leave us?” Bucky asked.  Steve bit his lip and looked at him coyly. 

“Let’s try again, we’ll do it right this time. No secrets, just honest.” Steve said and Bucky nodded in agreement. He could do that. He  _wanted_  that. 

“Like a do-over?” 

“A mulligan.”

“Oh take me back to the sta-art.” Bucky sang and Steve laughed again, this time a little higher with his eyes a little brighter.  It made Bucky giddy, and he couldn't believe that yeah, Steve really seemed to want this too.  “Ok.” Bucky held out a hand for Steve. “I’m Bucky, I work for StarkTech and I’ve got a particular weakness for really, really ridiculously good looking blonds.”

Steve couldn’t hide the blush creeping up his neck, but he took Bucky’s hand anyway. “I’m Steve Rogers, male model, and I really, really hate it when people quote Zoolander.”

Bucky’s eyes opened wide, he hadn’t even meant to but it opened up  ** _so_**  many opportunities. This was a whole other level of trolling Steve he couldn’t indulge in before. “Can you do Blue Steel?”

“Bucky, come on…I really get this shit all the time.”

“Or Magnum, I bet it’s beautiful, c'mon Steve – pucker up.”

“Nooooo…”

 “Just once! For me?”

“NOOOOOOO…”

But Steve did it anyway and Bucky kissed him as thanks, laughing breathless and kissing him again and again and again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We leave on a high note! Yay! :D 
> 
> So while writing the last line I thought "this could be a pretty good way to end the story" even though it wasn't how I intended to end it (since I know I have loose ends to tie up and believe it or not, I have the ending written out). Anyway, the point is if anyone reads that and thinks the same thing, know that this WHOLE story has been completely self-indulgent/a warm-up from my writer's block and that I will be shamelessly continuing for the simple fact that I'd like to explore Steve and Bucky's actual relationship more. *If* that bothers you, you can pretend the next couple chapters do not exist. I don't plan to go that much longer with this story in all honesty, but like I said: **_completely_ self-indulgent** haha.
> 
>  **EDIT UPDATE 8/1/15:** Sorry to do this after so many people have finished this last chapter but I've decided that I will be ending this story here, just because the main storyline is, in fact, over. HOWEVER, I am in no way finished with this universe! I have every intention to continue exploring Model!Steve and Bucky's relationship but most likely as a series of one-shots or perhaps another chaptered story. 
> 
> **In other words: this story is done, but this series is not finished. You may want to subscribe to the series for updates!**
> 
>  
> 
> I hope you'll stick it out with me :)
> 
> Feel free to come follow me on [Tumblr](http://captainbeardburn.tumblr.com) :)


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